


ACOMAF - Rhysand's Perspective - Part 6

by OtterlyWasted



Series: ACOMAF - Rhysand's Perspective [6]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, MAAS Sarah J. - Works, maas
Genre: Hybern, Prythian, The Night Court, The Summer Court (ACoTaR), Velaris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-01-13 01:23:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 59,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21235817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtterlyWasted/pseuds/OtterlyWasted
Summary: WARNING: If you have not read A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas I strongly suggest you go read it first - it's undoubtedly better written and what I have written will spoil the book for you.I am re-writing all of ACOMAF from Rhysand's perspective, using all of the original characters/scenes/dialogue, and adding in new bits and bobs to flesh his story out more.This Section:Ch. 1 - Rhysand, Feyre and Amren head to the Summer Court (New scenes)Ch. 2 - Dinner on the barge, and Rhysand spends time with Cresseida (New scenes)Ch. 3 - Rhysand and Tarquin bargain, then Rhysand has a private chat with Feyre (Several new scenes)Ch. 4 - Dinner with Tarquin and the location of the BookCh. 5 - Stealing the Book (Several new scenes)Ch. 6 - Blood Rubies and nightmares (Several new scenes)Ch. 7 - Waiting for the Queens to respond (Several new scenes)CH. 8 - A/N: An apology and update on health and writingI hope you all enjoy!*Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.





	1. Away We Go

Thanks to the efforts of my brothers, the terrible alcohol and my mind devouring fears – I didn’t sleep well. It was obvious to Amren when she arrived before breakfast, sitting with me in my study, her swirling silver eyes damn near pinning me to my chair.

“Cassian and Azriel tried to convince me that taking Feyre was a bad idea,” she said as she settled.

I sighed and reached up, rubbing my face, “Was this before or after they kidnapped me to play cards and convince me of the same thing?”

A short laugh, “Is that why you look half dead Rhysand?”

Dropping my hand, I leaned back in my chair, “It’s part of it. What is your opinion on the matter?”

Amren remained quiet, studying me for a minute then said, “Does it matter? You’ve made up your mind, and so has she I imagine.”

Crossing my arms, I frowned, “Your opinion always matters Amren – I may not change my plans, but I always listen to what you have to say.”

A hint of a smile touched her lips, “Well then. I think you’re right in taking her.”

I arched a brow – a little shocked.

She shrugged, “Feyre will always face a certain level of danger – because of her powers, yes, but Rhysand…” She was quiet for a moment, then said, “Whether or not she knows, whether or not she accepts the bond, if anyone ever found out, she would be in danger, and so will you – which is just one more reason that you should tell her.” I gritted my teeth a little at her comment, but she plowed on, seemingly without noticing my annoyance. “However, it means that she can either live locked up, or live free – and we’re all agreed on which of those prospects is worth the danger. Freedom is always worth the cost.”

Staring at her, I let out a long breath, then gave a nod, “Yes, it is. She’s going, by her own decision; we’re just going to have to be cautious and attentive.”

A smile quirked on her lips, “Well, that won’t be anything new for you in regard to her.”

I glared at her and she smirked then stood.

“If you want to get there before noon you should finish getting ready – I trust you aren’t going in those clothes, they’re positively dreadful.”

I looked down at myself – the clothes I was wearing weren’t terrible, more of my customary black, but they were by far not one of my finest sets. I shrugged and stood up, “Perhaps I will start a new rumor about myself – the High Lord of Nightmares, becoming a slob.”

She snorted, and as she left my study she said over her shoulder, “You can go dressed any way you want Rhysand, but if you want me to accompany you then you should clean yourself up.”

I smirked, watching her leave, then followed a moment after, climbing the stairs to my room. Passing Feyre’s door I could hear her inside talking with Nuala and Cerridwen; she sounded tired and I wondered if her sleep had been as poor as my own. Frowning at that thought, I continued on to my room and changed out of my simpler outfit into my more elegant attire. Black of course, but form fitting and cut with an elegant line, the fabric lush and luxurious and trimmed with fine silver thread. I was vain enough to enjoy dressing in this level of elegance, despite the fact that it reminded me of my time Under the Mountain. Straightening my lapels, I reached up and ran a hand through my hair, then headed out of my room and down the stairs where Amren was waiting – she cast a glance over me and smirked.

“Better.” Was all she said, and I just shook my head.

Standing beside her, I turned and looked up the stairs, waiting for Feyre. I realized then that this was one of my favorite moments in regard to Feyre - watching her come to the stairs; she would meet my eyes and we would share something almost vulnerable between each other. It felt like it was a brief moment where our souls could meet and there was no friction between us, no sarcasm or distrust – her looking for approval and me reveling in her beauty. I could feel Amren’s gaze on me, examining me, I just ignored her and waited.

A minute later I heard Feyre’s door open and listened to her quiet foot falls as she came to the top of the landing and paused, her gaze meeting mine. She had chosen a dress of flowing lilac, the layers of sheer fabric floating around her as though a phantom breeze swirled around her. It was a simple gown in its overall design, but it made quite the statement. Pretty in color, it made her look young, almost girlish, though the plunging neckline was a strong reminder that she was a woman – the combination would ensure that no one would see the power and cunning below the surface, only the young, attractive woman. It was the embroidery that made my heart skip a beat however – silver night-blooming flowers extending up from the hem of the dress that brushed across the floor to climb up her legs and curve around her thighs, and more dangling from her shoulders, draping over her arms and chest. She was making a subtle declaration of her allegiance to the Night Court with her clothing alone.

Swallowing once, I finally turned my gaze up to meet her gray-blue eyes and saw her wry amusement as she took in my reaction. She had darkened her eyes with kohl and wore simple silver jewelry. Woven into her hair was a silver diadem, another piece I had chosen for her the day before. It would likely raise eyes in the Summer Court – a mortal-turned-fae with no royal blood to speak of wearing a crown, but the simplicity of it would probably convince them that it was nothing more than a pretty decoration. They would never know that I crowned her at every opportunity, that I recognized her as my equal in all things... My Feyre, my…

I didn’t think it, to think it would make it a hope so deep it might wash me out to sea, and I couldn’t afford to be lost to it. Not yet.

Feyre descended the stairs and came to stop in front of me. I nodded once and said simply, “Good. Let’s go.”

She gaped at me, at the brusqueness of my comment. Amren beside me let out a little laugh, smiling with feline humor, “He’s pissy this morning.”

I shook my head and raised both hands, Amren slipping her delicate hand into mine, while Feyre hesitated, frowning at me. “Why?”

I let out a sigh and told a lie with the truth, “Because I stayed out late with Cassian and Azriel, and they took me for all I was worth in cards.”

Her eyes lightened with humor as she finally reached up to take my other hand, her fingers cool and soft, and asked, “Sore loser?”

I resisted the urge to caress the back of her hand with my thumb, and grumbled in response, “I am when my brothers tag-team me.”

Then, before she could tease me further, summoned up my darkness, swirling it around the three of us and cast us out across the world, to the palace of the Summer Court.

We landed on a platform, and I dismissed the darkness still swirling around us. All around us the ocean lapped at the shore, sunlight glinting off the blue-green waves and the air filled with the scent of salt and ocean brine. In front of us was a sprawling tan stone palace perched on top of the mountain-island at the heart of a half-moon bay. The city spread around and below us, out towards the sparkling ocean, the white buildings glimmering with what might have once been coral or pearl. Gulls flew above, filling the air with their high-pitched calls, and ships filled the bay until the water looked as though it was filled with hundreds of leafless trees. The air was hot, and even the breeze off the ocean offered little relief – wearing black was going to make a statement, one of stupidity I was sure.

Standing in front of us was a small group of individuals, all circled around one tall, dark-skinned male, his pale white hair glimmering like the white buildings below, and his eyes a turquoise so deep and blue that you could feel the weight of the ocean beneath his stare. He was young, but he had a strong, confident demeanor, and yet also… open, welcoming. Kind.

“Welcome to Adriata,” he said while offering us a warm smile.

Both Amren and Feyre dropped my hands and I lowered mine, sliding them into my pockets. Smiling lightly, I replied in a lazy drawl, “Good to see you again, Tarquin.”

A glance out of the corner of my eye at Feyre and I could feel her shifting, almost leaning _towards_ Tarquin, as though drawn to him. It made my heart tighten and I reached out to the bond to feel along it, to feel her, to try and understand – there were no images, her shields were up, but there was a feeling of… recognition, deeper than just a memory of knowing someone. The power perhaps? Did the kernel of power she had from Tarquin recognize him? Interesting.

The rest of Tarquin’s entourage, all of them with similar dark skin and light hair, shared frowns at our greeting. It was almost amusing – it seemed we were not as welcome as Tarquin was attempting to portray. Well then, that wasn’t entirely surprising.

Sliding one hand out of my pocket I gestured to my left, “Amren I think you know. Though you haven’t met her since your… promotion.”

Tarquin afforded Amren the briefest of nods, and there was a glimmer of fear in his eye – she was an unknown entity, even if he had met her before, a threat that could not be calculated.

“Welcome back to the city, lady.”

Amren did not afford him a nod, bow or even a curtsy. The respect she showed me on occasion was a choice freely made on her part, and she did not choose to extend that respect to Tarquin now – all part of the game we played.

“At least,” she said after she had looked Tarquin over, head to toe, “you are far more handsome than your cousin. He was an eyesore.” A female behind Tarquin glared at Amren, almost snarling at her. Amren just grinned wide, taunting, “Condolences, of course.” Amren played this role almost too well – it would be a fine line between taunting and outright hostility, giving Feyre the delicate thread of passive friendship in which to work.

Arching a brow, I gestured to my right, indicating Feyre. “I don’t believe you two were ever formally introduced Under the Mountain. Tarquin, Feyre. Feyre, Tarquin.”

I watched as Tarquin’s gaze, as all their gazes fixed on Feyre. He did not smile at her, but his gaze was focused and heavy, and I watched as it slid down from her face to her chest, where a large swath of bare skin was exposed by the sweeping vee of her gown. Anger boiled up inside of me, I did _not_ want anyone looking at my Mate like that – but I had to stamp it down. Part of the game, this was all part of the game.

I smirked instead and said, “Her breasts _are_ rather spectacular, aren’t they? Delicious as ripe apples.” I watched Tarquin’s face, which darkened slightly, his gaze flashing up to meet mine in embarrassment and… challenge. Hmm.

I felt Feyre stiffen beside me an angry retort was building up inside of her, however she turned to look at me instead and said almost playfully, “Here I was, thinking you had a fascination with my mouth.” Amren let out a low snort beside me.

I was _delighted_ at her choice to play, not only because she was playing the game, but also because it meant she understood it was a game. She recognized the mask I was wearing right now, and that it wasn’t who _I_ was – that while these words I used were finely honed weapons, they were not directed at her, even if she appeared to be the recipient of them.

Turning my attention back to Tarquin I watched as he looked between the two of us, his eyes narrowed slightly, as though he was trying to figure out what our relationship might be. Finally, carefully, he said, “You have a tale to tell, it seems.”

Sliding my hand back into my pocket I replied smoothly, “We have many tales to tell.” With a jerk of my chain I indicated the large, sea-green double doors behind Tarquin and his entourage, “So why not get comfortable.”

A female just behind Tarquin took a half-step closer to him and announced, “We have refreshments prepared.”

Tarquin blinked and seemed to suddenly remember he even had an entourage. Turning slightly, he rested a hand lightly on her shoulder as he introduced her, “Cresseida – Princess of Adriata.”

Her gaze washed over all of us, but settled on Feyre, examining her closely. “A pleasure,” she said with an almost husky voice. “And an honor.”

Beside me I felt Feyre stiffen again – she did not like being praised for what she did Under the Mountain, all it did was remind her of the blood and death, and she felt no pride for any of it. I understood how she felt, I felt no pride for the sacrifices I made or the cruelty that had been necessary, only resolve that I would do it all again – a resolve I think she was beginning to come to grips with herself.

Feyre gave her a slight shrug and said with surprising calm, “The honor’s mine, princess.”

Tarquin arched a brow, but then gestured to his other side and introduced the male standing there, “This is Varian, he is the captain of my guard, and Prince of Adriata. He is also Cresseida’s younger brother.”

Varian gave us all a once over, but then his gaze locked on Amren, dark and fierce. I could feel Amren’s amusement, like a cat ready to play with a new toy. She had found the distraction she was going to focus most of her energy on – which would likely leave Cresseida to me. I gave her another look and found her eyes on me as well, desire and distrust swelling there, as well as a layer of cunning that meant I would need to play my cards well. At least the game would not be terribly boring, even if I had no desire to play it.

Tarquin introduced the rest of his entourage, several advisers who oversaw the city and the court and trade – they seemed wary and uncertain over our visit. Once the introductions were completely we were then led into the palace, the walls and floors shell-flecked and filled with nearly countless windows overlooking the bay and the endless sea beyond. The palace reminded me of a sand castle, with its brown stone and all of the inset shells, sea glass chandeliers swaying above us, and countless alcoves set with gurgling fountains of fresh water and everywhere the scent of the sea. It was a far cry from the darker style of the Night Court, and an even further cry from the town house, with its relatively simple and comfortable style. I missed it already.

Keeping my hands in my pockets I strolled beside Tarquin, with Feyre a bare step behind me listening intently to our conversation, and Amren off to the side, boredom rolling off her, tinged with amusement at how Varian seemed to be watching every move she made. Tarquin and I spoke cordially, and he took the time to gesture to an interesting mural or statue – but I could tell he wasn’t interested, and honestly, neither was I. Conversationally I brought up the upcoming holiday, Nynsar.

“Have you begun preparing for it?” I asked with only vague curiosity.

Tarquin shrugged his shoulders, “Not really, we’ll have a minor display but I’m not focusing too many resources towards it this year.”

I nodded, it was a good decision on his part – the holidays were good morale for the people, but only when they had roofs over their heads and belly’s full enough to enjoy it. Nynsar was an important holiday in the Night Court but not in the way it was celebrated in other courts – there would be some flower displays, but the true draw was something far more special and rare. Excitement twisted up my spine that Feyre would be there to enjoy it with us, with me.

Distracting me from my sudden excitement, Tarquin turned his head to look back at Feyre and went on to explain, “We have four main cities in my territory. We spend the last month of winter and first spring months in Adriata – it’s finest at this time of year.”

I watched as Feyre appeared to consider this and then nod, glancing around appreciatively, “It’s very beautiful.”

He smiled and his steps slowed, staring at her again, drinking in the sight of her and I felt my rage burning low in my gut. Clenching my hands into my fists in my pockets, I tried to distract him, “The repairs have been going well, I take it.”

Fortunately, for all of us, that question drew Tarquin’s attention back to me – though Feyre did not seem bothered by his intense stares, and I realized that was what bothered me most. Not that he appeared drawn to her, but that she did not seem opposed to his attention.

_A game, it was just a game._

It was getting harder to convince myself of that – and we hadn’t even been here an hour.

“Mostly. There remains much to be done.” Tarquin explained amicably, turning us down another hallway. “The back half of the castle is a wreck. But, as you can see, we’ve finished most of the inside. We focused on the city first – and those repairs are ongoing.”

I noticed Feyre’s brows furrow, at that – she had seen the damage in Spring Court but it appeared that she hadn’t realized that Summer Court had been sacked. It made me wonder what else she did not know about what happened outside, while we were all Under the Mountain – this was information she needed. I made a mental note to include it in the lesson’s we were all giving her. Knowledge was power and I would not leave her ill equipped.

Glancing at Tarquin, I spear-headed a question that might give us a clue, “I hope no valuables were lost during its occupation.”

Tarquin didn’t tense, didn’t even hesitate as he responded, relief evident in his voice, “Not the most important things, thank the Mother.”

Pausing just before a set of sweeping double doors, the three advisers bowed to us, murmuring farewell and turned to leave – flashing Tarquin with looks of warning. Glancing at Tarquin out of the corner of my eye I noticed that he gave them a smile that did not reach his eyes – so, his court did not yet trust him. He was young and it had not been expected that he would have ever become High Lord. Their lack of faith was something he clearly understood but did not appreciate. A division which could potentially be played upon – I filed it away for later, if it became necessary.

Once they left, he pushed the doors open and led us into a large vaulted room, encased in white oak and green glass that overlooked the mouth of the bay, and a glorious view of the ocean. I watched Feyre’s reaction, I think we all watched as she made her way to the windows as though in a trance, as though called by the sea. The radiant light inside of her seemed to flare, and I felt my heart racing and tried to keep control of my breathing.

Tarquin seemed drawn to her even more and made his way over to stand beside her. Every fiber of my being roared to slam him into a wall, to grab her and run.

_Mine. My Mate. Mine._

No. I gritted my teeth slightly, my jaw flexing once as I forced my instincts down.

No.

She was not mine; she was free, and it was her choice. Always her choice.

“This is my favorite view,” I heard Tarquin tell her as we all took seats around the long table in the center of the room. I took the seat to the right of the chair at the head of the table, a seat of honor and it was expected I would sit there. Amren sat opposite of me, in the other seat of honor, and smirked at the faintly shocked look on Varian’s face at her bold decision to do so. Smiling wryly, I glanced over as Cresseida sat beside me, with Varian sitting on her other side.

Feyre glanced towards Tarquin, and replied quietly, “You must be very proud, to have such stunning lands.”

I leaned back in my seat and watched as a few servants entered, bearing heaping platters of food that were placed on sideboards. Soon after they began to fill plates with small selections of each dish, and served us at the table, filling our wine glasses as well. I turned my attention to Cresseida and Varian and gave them a bland smile.

“Have your fish markets begun to recover?” I asked them, “It looked as though your bay is filled with ships, so I imagine you must be hauling in quite a catch.”

Varian did not deign to respond, but Cresseida shrugged her shoulders once, “It was a little difficult at the start, but they are recovering nicely. We once again have a wide selection of fish and shellfish.”

I kept my gaze on Cresseida, but was only half listening to her, paying closer attention to the quiet conversation Tarquin and Feyre were having behind me at the windows.

Tarquin asked her quietly, his question calculated, “How do they compare to the ones you have seen?”

“Everything in Prythian is lovely,” she responded smoothly, “when compared to the mortal realm.”

I smiled, glancing down at the plate sitting in front of me, heaped with the bounties of the ocean, a selection full of rich aromas and colors.

“Yes,” I replied in kind, “I can tell, this is quite the feast.”

Cresseida smirked and picked up her wine glass, taking a sip. Amren fiddled lightly with her silverware while staring at the wall of windows behind us in boredom.

“Yes well, it is a pleasure to have someone visit that we are able to share this bounty with,” Cresseida responded and I was not fool enough to miss the edge of sarcasm in her voice.

“And is being immortal lovelier than being human?” I heard Tarquin ask Feyre, and I tensed slightly because… I honestly wasn’t sure what her answer would be – I don’t think anyone had ever asked her that. I knew she no longer wished to be dead, I know she had fought to stay alive, so I did not think she was ungrateful for this new life, but it did not mean she was happy with the reality of it.

I heard as Feyre’s voice went a little sharp with scorn, “You tell me.”

Tarquin’s responded with warm amusement, “You are a pearl. Though I knew that the day you threw that bone at Amarantha and splattered mud on her favorite dress.”

I felt Feyre tense down the bond and winced inside – she really did not like being reminded about her time Under the Mountain, it was nearly physical pain for her. Cresseida tensed slightly at Tarquin’s response, as though she almost felt jealous at his words – I filed that away for possible future use as well.

Smiling at Cresseida again, I recaptured her attention with another question, “Ah, so are we the first to visit then? That is an unexpected honor.”

I think if she had dared, Cresseida would have rolled her eyes at me. Instead she shrugged again, “Yes well… not many High Lords are willing to travel these days, the fact that you were interested in opening avenues of new trade was intriguing.” Cresseida’s response was interesting, there were undertones to it that I wanted to explore, but Feyre’s next words to Tarquin distracted me entirely and made my heart stop.

“I do not remember you being quite so handsome Under the Mountain. The sunlight and sea suit you.”

_Just a game, she is just playing the game._

I chanted the words in my head, the jealousy eating at me again. Surprisingly it was Tarquin’s response that helped calm me, though unexpected – he did not fall for the lure of the compliment and instead hunted for truth instead.

“How exactly do you fit within Rhysand’s court?”

I felt it then, Feyre’s sudden uncertainty and I wanted to frown. She didn’t know how she fit in, worse than that I realized, she didn’t feel as though she deserved any position – in my court or my family. Unworthy. That was how she viewed herself and it made my heart ache.

Before she could respond and disparage herself, I half turned in my chair to face them and answered Tarquin directly, “Feyre is a member of my Inner Circle. And is my Emissary to the Mortal Lands.”

Feyre’s gaze flashed to meet mine, her eyes dark with emotions, then she glanced back to Tarquin and gave him a half nod – as though agreeing with what I said. I watched as she walked away from him then, graceful and elegant, head held high despite the roiling emotions that flowed down the bond from her. She made her way around the table, and sat beside Amren, glancing at her for a moment, before looking back to Tarquin, who continued to stand by the windows.

Cresseida arched a brow at me in surprise, “Do you have much contact with the mortal realm?”

Feyre tensed a little, but I simply picked up my wine and swirled it lightly in the glass, “I prefer to be prepared for every potential situation.” Leaning forward I sniffed the wine delicately – I did not honestly believe they would try and poison me, but I felt them stiffen around me at the implication, another distraction. “And, given that Hybern seems set on making themselves a nuisance, striking up a conversation with the humans might be in our best interest.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Varian draw his attention away from Amren, who was still ignoring him with a smirk on her lips, and asked sharply, “So it’s been confirmed, then? Hybern is readying for war.”

“They’re done readying,” I said before I took a sip of my wine – it was light and fruity, a little dry but still delightful. “War is imminent.”

Tarquin finally made his way around to the head of the table and sat, leaning back comfortably, calmly. “Yes, you mentioned that in your letter.” He crossed his legs and rested one hand on his knee, his gaze studying mine, weighing my words. “And you know that against Hybern, we will fight. We lost enough good people Under the Mountain. I have no interest in being slaves again. But if you are here to ask me to fight in another war, Rhysand-“

I knew what he meant – and immediately cut him off smoothly, “That is not a possibility, and had not even entered my mind.”

Which was a lie – I had considered everything in regard to Feyre, including how I would easily beg Tarquin for aid to help protect her from Hybern, from Tamlin, from any and every threat. I would sacrifice everything for her, and it was those thoughts that had kept me up most of last night Something in Tarquin’s eyes told me he didn’t quite believe me, but it was the confusion on Feyre’s face that led to Cresseida speaking up in response, her voice a vaguely mocking croon as she looked at Feyre. “High Lords have gone to war for less, you know. Doing it over such an _unusual_ female would be nothing unexpected.”

Everyone else’s gaze switched back and forth between the two of them, but my eyes stayed on Feyre. Her chin lifted as her back stiffened and she responded in a decidedly flat, bored voice, “Try not to look too excited, princess. The High Lord of Spring has no plans to go to war with the Night Court.”

Cresseida smiled with excessive sweetness and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table – I was surprised she didn’t bat her eyes as well. “And are you in contact with Tamlin, then?”

I felt Feyre turn to ice, felt it down the bond, felt it in my soul – she was ice and she was power, and she was not afraid.

Feyre meet Cresseida’s gaze, hard and cold, she did not back down, did not flinch as she responded, “There are things that are public knowledge, and things that are not. My relationship with him is well known. Its current standing, however, is none of your concern. Or anyone else’s. But I do know Tamlin, and I know that there will be no internal war between courts – at least not over me, or _my_ decisions.”

Of course, there would be no war fought for her, at least not a direct attack – Tamlin was a coward. I had known this for a very long time, but the fact that she had come to that conclusion on her own and was willing to admit it spoke volumes. I swallowed and stared at her, proud and aching and desperately wanting to hold her – because that realization had to be brutally painful for her. That the male she had loved, had suffered and died for, would not go to war for her – not that she _wanted_ him to, she would not want anyone to die for her ever, but that he was completely unwilling to even try…

Cresseida held Feyre’s gaze for longer than I imagined she would, but it was she who looked away first in the end. “What a relief then,” she said as she took a sip of her wine, then began to eat, cracking a large crab shell to reveal the succulent white flesh within. “To know we are not harboring a stolen bride – and that we need not bother returning her to her master, as the law demands. And as any wise person might do, to keep trouble from their doorstep.”

Fury and darkness swirled up inside of me at her words, and I realized that Feyre was no long ice but white hot burning fire, her rage matching the intensity of my own – we were two souls, and too similar, I was darkness and she was the raging star that burned within me.

Glancing over, I saw that Amren took great offense to Cresseida’s words as well, and I was pleased to see it. She was sitting completely still, her glowing, swirling silver eyes locked on the young, oblivious woman. What honestly shocked me was Varian’s response – his body was turned, as though he might jump in front of his sister to protect her, but the look on his face as he stared at Amren… stunned ox was a fairly good description.

With a quiet calm that did not relay the burning tempest of rage inside of her, Feyre responded to her, “I left of my own free will.” Her eyes flashed and the radiance shining out of her damn near took my breath away. “And no one is my master.”

Cresseida used a small fork to delicately pick out the flesh inside the crab leg. “Think that all you want, lady, but the law is the law. You are – were his bride. Swearing fealty to another High Lord does not change that. So it is a very good thing that he respects your decisions. Otherwise, all it would take would be one letter from him to Tarquin, requesting your return, and we would have to obey. Or risk war ourselves.”

The tension in the room was so thick I could taste it; this was not a good start to this trip. Amusing however that Cresseida mentioned one of the sticking points I brought up last night to my brothers – Feyre had sworn no fealty to me, my court or my lands. She was not my subject, she was free.

Exhaling slowly, I remarked with more calm than I felt, “You are always a joy, Cresseida.”

Varian’s gaze snapped to me and his eyes narrowed, “Careful, High Lord. My sister speaks the truth.”

I began to respond but hesitated when Tarquin leaned forward, resting a hand on the dining table and said quietly, “Rhysand is our guest – his courtiers are our guests.” His gaze met Varian and Cresseida’s, gently reprimanding them, and reminding them of a truth that was often overlooked in light of my other reputations. “We will treat them, Cresseida, as we treat people who saved our necks when all it would have taken was one word from them for us to be very, very dead.”

Cresseida was not abashed, but she and her brother did settle – abandoning the fight for now, which was a very wise decision on their part. While Cresseida’s words enraged me, I was a little impressed – she would be willing to do anything to protect her city, her people, even sacrifice the very savior that had freed her High Lord and her people in the first place. Even if it sullied her soul, she would do it. It wasn’t her fault that she did not realize that the greatest danger to her people did not come from Spring Court, but from the three people sitting at the table beside her – Feyre included because I knew she would not go down without a fight. It wasn’t her fault that she did not know I would burn this city to the ground to save Feyre.

Tarquin shook his head and gave me a wry smile, “We have more to discuss later, you and I. Tonight, I’m throwing a party for you all on my pleasure barge in the bay. After that, you’re free to roam in this city wherever you wish.” Pausing, he gestured briefly, “You will forgive its princess if she is protective of her people. Rebuilding these months has been long and hard. We do not wish to do it again any time soon.”

Meeting Tarquin’s gaze, I saw that this High Lord was _good_ – at his core he was good, and kind, and just. I knew that he, out of nearly all of the other High Lords, had realized the sacrifice I made, and respected me for the choice. He did not care to shame me for political gain, he instead chose to honor it, and it eased something inside of me. I did not care what other people thought about me, except for Feyre, but for someone else to realize… it eased something tight inside of me. The guilt over what our intentions were, which had been a low simmering fire inside of me, flared a little brighter – and in the back of my mind there was a whisper – _ask him._ I ignored it.

Tarquin glanced to Feyre, as though in apology and explained, “Cresseida made many sacrifices on behalf of her people. Do not take her caution personally.”

Feyre was still burning with anger at Cresseida’s words, I could feel the simmering rage down the bond, but Tarquin’s explanation began to cool her temper – however it inflamed my own. Good though he may be, kind to a fault even, his cajoling was nearly more of an insult than Cresseida’s implications had been. Sacrifices? He wished to discuss sacrifices? He had reminded Cresseida and Varian of the choice I had made Under the Mountain to save them – but what of Feyre’s ultimate sacrifice? I would not allow it to go unremarked – no matter how often she wished it would.

“We all made sacrifices,” I said with quiet, deadly earnest. “And you now sit at this table with your family because of the ones Feyre made. So you will forgive _me,_ Tarquin, if I tell your princess that if she sends word to Tamlin, or if any of your people try to bring her to him, their lives will be forfeit.”

The entire room went still. Not just those of us sitting in it, but even the gentle breeze coming from the sea seemed to fall still with breathless uncertainty. Beside me I began to feel Tarquin’s power swirl up inside him and I was actually impressed by the level of power I felt coming from him. Tarquin’s gaze, normally a brilliant turquoise color, shifted into the crushing blue of the deepest sea – dark and deadly.

“Do not threaten me in my own home, Rhysand,” he said quietly, never once looking away from me. “My gratitude goes only so far.”

Good lad. Be grateful but also be realistic – a gift given does not incur a lifetime of debt, it was necessary to understand this. He was learning – he might very well make a credible High Lord. However, he needed to understand that while I did not expect a lifetime of gratitude, I was not playing games with Feyre’s life. He needed to know this, not just for the sake of Cresseida’s own life, but for the safety of all his people – because I would not hesitate to lay waste to this entire city to save her. Insane, irrational though it might be, it was the absolute truth. So, I gave him fair warning.

“It’s not a threat,” I responded just as quietly, as calmly. A faint smile hovered at the edges of my mouth as I continued to hold his gaze, but reached out with my darkness, and without looking, cracked the shell on one of the crab claws on my plate - completely nonchalant with the use of my power. “It’s a promise.”

Tarquin and I stared at each other, long and hard, gauging each other’s strengths and weaknesses – and I felt Amren across from me, felt her own power stirring, ready to back me up at a moment’s notice. It was Feyre however, who broke the line of tension in the room in her usual witty manner. Lifting her glass of wine, she glanced around the room, as she said with mild amusement, “No wonder immortality never gets dull.”

Shock and pleasure flashed across Tarquin’s face and he let out a warm chuckle, his shoulders relaxing slightly, and as he leaned back the soothing breeze swirled in the room again. A brief smile touched my lips and I reclined back in my chair as well, taking in the sight of Cresseida and Varian, both of them looking a little pale and still tense. Amren was amused, and she gave me a quick wink.

Looking at Feyre, taking in the sight of her, proud and strong, and oh so clever… radiant. I reached out, and with a gentle touch, sent a wave of approval down the bond. She looked at me, shocked and then a little smug as she took a sip of her wine.

Ah Feyre, she never failed to amaze me. I could not wait to see what she would do next.

Let the games commence.


	2. The Ocean Between Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: If you have not read A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas I strongly suggest you go read it first - it's undoubtedly better written and what I have written will spoil the book for you.
> 
> I am re-writing all of ACOMAF from Rhysand's perspective, using all of the original characters/scenes/dialogue, and adding in new bits and bobs to flesh his story out more.
> 
> This Section:  
Ch. 1 - Rhysand, Feyre and Amren head to the Summer Court (New scenes)  
Ch. 2 - Dinner on the barge, and Rhysand spends time with Cresseida (New scenes)  
Ch. 3 - Rhysand and Tarquin bargain, then Rhysand has a private chat with Feyre (Several new scenes)  
Ch. 4 - Dinner with Tarquin and the location of the Book  
Ch. 5 - Stealing the Book (Several new scenes)  
Ch. 6 - Blood Rubies and nightmares (Several new scenes)  
Ch. 7 - Waiting for the Queens to respond (Several new scenes)  
CH. 8 - A/N: An apology and update on health and writing
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> *Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.

The lunch wrapped up not long after our little… spat, ending on a much friendlier note. Tarquin had smiled warmly at all of us and hoped we would enjoy our accommodations, informing us that servants would fetch us when it was time to leave for the night’s festivities. Cresseida and Varian had swept out behind him without a backward glance, though Varian’s shoulders had been tight – almost as though he was uncomfortable showing us his back.

Servants led us through the palace to the guest wing, directing us into a private lounge, lavishly appointed with a large water fountain in the center of it surrounded by plush couches and carpets. One wall was nothing but windows overlooking the sea and set on the opposite wall were three doors that branched into private chambers. Casually Amren picked the first one, and I picked the last one, leaving Feyre to occupy the middle room – giving her protection on at least two sides, though I did not think she realized that had been our intention.

Standing in my room, gray-green with gold accents and flecks of blue, it was charming and almost soothing, but far grander than anything I wanted in a private chamber. Walking over to the windows I reached up to unbutton the top buttons on my tunic, the stifling heat of the summer day getting to me a little despite the constant breeze. Glancing out the wide windows I took in our surroundings when there was a light knock at my door.

“Come in Amren,” I responded quietly. I knew without checking it would be her – as much I appreciated the thought of Feyre wanting to enter my bedroom, even a borrowed bedroom, I knew she would not be comfortable doing so.

The door opened and Amren slipped inside, and I turned to look at her, noting her smirk and arched brow.

“Well,” she said before I could comment first, “That was interesting. Tarquin isn’t nearly as boring as I thought he might be. This little jaunt might actually end up being fun.”

I let out a short laugh, “Oh I’m sure Cresseida will ensure that – she was only getting started. She has always been cantankerous, despite how young she is.” I let out a breath and reached up, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t think any of them have any intention of trying to kidnap Feyre off to the Spring Court – I think she was just testing the waters, but…”

Amren shrugged, “Cautious and attentive, like you said.”

I nodded, then smirked at her with amusement, “Varian is either entirely smitten with you or plans on planting a dagger in your back to save everyone else the trouble.”

Her eyes flashed and a smile hovered at the corners of her mouth, “He will be fun to play with. Perhaps if Cresseida is polite this week, I’ll leave him mostly intact.” With that bold and mildly terrifying statement, Amren swept back out into the lounge.

Shaking my head, I glanced out the windows again before making my way to Feyre’s room. I knocked once, then pushed the door open without giving her a chance to respond, stepping inside and shutting the door behind me then leaned back against it with outward indifference. Feyre stood by a dresser, holding a shell and looking up at me, her eyes dark and considering. Looking her over I couldn’t help but remember the obvious attraction between her and Tarquin, jealousy swirling up through me again.

Crossing my arms, I took a breath then said, “The problem, I’ve realized, will be that I like Tarquin. I even like Cresseida.” Stubborn and argumentative though she was – she wasn’t a bad person, just a pain in the ass. I tended to like people like that however, it meant they were interesting. I shrugged my shoulders once, “Varian, I could live without, but I bet a few weeks with Cassian and Azriel, and he’d be thick as thieves with them and I’d have to learn to like him.” I smirked a little, “Or he’d be wrapped around Amren’s finger, and I’d have to leave him alone entirely or risk her wrath.”

Half leaning against the dresser, Feyre studied me as I spoke then arched a brow and asked, “And?”

I was silent for a moment, noticing how the late afternoon sunlight played with the gold in her hair, distracted by the glistening shine of it. Taking in a slow breath, I forced myself to focus before I responded, “And I want you to find a way to do what you have to do without making enemies of them.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, seemingly oblivious to how easily she distracted me, “So you’re telling me don’t get caught.”

I nodded, and the jealousy flared in me again as I thought back to the compliment she had given Tarquin. Keeping my face blank, and my voice calm, I asked her quietly, “Do you like that Tarquin can’t stop looking at you?” A faint line of color appeared on her cheeks and I felt my heart near to crumble, wondering if the blush was due to embarrassment at having it pointed out or if she did long for the High Lord of Summer. “I can’t tell if it’s because he wants you,” I continued, obsessively torturing myself now, “or because he knows you have his power and wants to see how much.”

Her chin lifted slightly, “Can’t it be both?”

I smiled thinly, “Of course. But having a High Lord lusting after you is a dangerous game.”

Though if one was dangerous, how could Feyre possibly survive all three of us lusting after her? And the King of Hybern to boot – the Attor had said it – _good luck trying to keep her…_ I felt my throat tighten with a sudden flash of fear.

“First you taunt me with Cassian,” her voice dripping with sarcasm, “now Tarquin? Can’t you find other ways to annoy me?”

I rolled her words through her head, trying to decipher them like a long-lost language. Perhaps… perhaps she was not actually interested in Tarquin. Was it possible she was just playing the game? Or was there some attraction there, but only because of the power they shared? Damn the woman! She always managed to twist my thoughts up into a whirlwind of disorder, making it hard to breathe or plan…

Eyes narrowed I stalked towards her yet she did not back away but held her ground. Lifting my arms, I rested my hands on either side of her on the dresser and pressed close enough that I could feel the warmth of her body washing over me. The scent of her, pine and snow mingled with salt and sea, teased my senses and I nearly drowned with the longing to kiss her – just once. To feel her full lips pressed against mine, warm and sweet…

Focus. I _had_ to focus. So did she.

Holding her gaze I said softly, “You have one task here, Feyre. One task that no one can know about. So do anything you have to in order to accomplish it. But get that book. And do not get caught.”

Something flashed in her eyes, anger perhaps, or defiance, but was replaced with wicked humor that absolutely bewitched me, body and soul. “_Anything_?” She asked me, her voice almost husky. “If I fucked him for it, what would you do?”

My entire body went stiff and hot, my skin feeling tight as my heart froze, then sped recklessly. Emotions hammered through me too quickly for me to process them – anger, jealousy, excitement, rage… I dug my fingers into the wood of the dresser until it groaned beneath my grip. “You say such atrocious things,” I whispered. Forcing myself to take a breath, I waited to calm down, reminding myself over and over that she was not mine, that she was free. When I finally managed to conquer, or at least subdue, my instincts, I met her gaze again and said softly, “You are always free to do what you want, with whomever you want. So if you want to ride him, go ahead.”

A smirk played over those luscious lips that harbored so many of my dreams. “Maybe I will.”

I felt anger flash through me again as my instincts screamed to claim her as mine, but instead I replied calmly, “Fine.”

Lifting her chin, proud and defiant, she responded with amusement, “Fine.”

I was so close to her now that our bodies were nearly touching, and I knew… I knew we were on such dangerous ground. I was just barely holding myself back from pressing hard into her, from kissing her and claiming her, I was actually surprised that I was not trembling with my restraint.

“Do not jeopardize this mission,” I whispered to her.

Her eyes were so dark and lustrous, and her breathing came quickly, the sweetness of it brushing over my face, enticing me further. “I know the cost.”

Distraction. Mother above, I needed a distraction.

I managed to tear my gaze from her long enough to notice the unlit candle on the dresser behind her.

Nodding towards the candle, I ordered her simply, “Light it.”

Her eyes narrowed at me, stubbornness etched on every plane of her face… She did not like being told what to do and it made me half-smile, but then I felt her power swelling up inside of her, filling every inch of her and pushing out.

I watched the candle expectantly, looking for the tell-tale wisp of smoke and then blinked as the candle suddenly toppled off of the dresser by a small wave of water, soaking the top of the dresser and spilling onto the floor.

Ah my Feyre, always full of surprises.

Chuckling a little, I teased her, “Can you never follow orders?”

Her eyes took on an introspective look, as though she was considering the power inside of her, considering the possibilities it presented her. I watched her, fascinated – the way her eyes shifted color, more gray than blue now, and the way she lightly bit her bottom lip, worrying it with her teeth while she thought hard.

Cauldron… watching her bite her lip, I imagined how it would feel between my teeth, the sounds she might make…

The only thing that saved _me_ from exploding into flames was the feeling of her power again, washing through her, and I watched as she commanded the water, drawing it up into hundreds of glimmering droplets that swirled around us on a gentle breeze. Leaning back a little I examined them, my heart beating so hard – it was beautiful, and the use of her power was delicate and precise.

Four months, she had only been alive with this power for four months, and actively learning how to use it for barely a month. She wasn’t just powerful; she was innately talented – once she stopped doubting herself there was nothing left to hold her back.

Worlds. She could conquer worlds.

Arching a brow at her, I said succinctly, “I suggest you not show Tarquin that little trick in the bedroom.”

Her eyes flashed and before I could think or shield, I felt the droplets of water slam into my face – plop, plop, plop, drenching me. I _gaped_ at her, then let out a little laugh, pushing away from the dresser and took a step back from her – desperately needing some space between us and yet the wrenching, tearing feeling I felt as I pulled away hit me hard in my gut.

“Good work,” I said, without reaching up to wipe my face. “Keep practicing.”

Feyre, staring at me, suddenly frowned, then asked quietly, “Will he go to war? Over me?”

All of the rage from earlier slammed hard into me, and I had to take a minute to breathe slowly, working it back down.

“I don’t know,” I finally told her. It wasn’t the truth, not really, I did not believe for an instant that he would declare war on my court – for all his brash behavior he wasn’t that bold. I did however believe that he was working behind the scenes, planning some other way of stealing her back and punishing me – I just wasn’t sure of his plan. Yet.

Feyre’s eyes turned sad, dark with suffering and fear… and resolve. It made me ache and burn and made my body long for her hers – not with lust, but with a desperate need to hold her close.

“I – I would go back,” She said, quiet at first, but then her voice went firm. “If it came to that, Rhysand. I’d go back rather than make you fight.”

I just stared at her.

I was enraged.

I was terrified.

I was shaking.

As smoothly as I could I slid my hands into my pockets, clenched into fists, trying to hide how badly my hands were trembling.

She would go back – she wouldn’t even hesitate; I could see it in her eyes. Just as she did not hesitate to go Under the Mountain, to sacrifice herself. Feyre would walk calmly back into darkness and death, all to save me – to save my court.

I had never asked Feyre to swear fealty to me or mine.

However with that simple declaration, she just had – and each and every one of my people owed her their allegiance.

Feyre. My friend, my love, my Mate… My High Lady.

I had never before thought the words, always too afraid at how it might wreck me, but as soon as I did, they rang bright and clear through me. Truth.

I gave her a vague smirk – trying to cover the soul deep shift that had happened inside of me. Plus… I needed to know. “Would you _want_ to go back? Would going to war on your behalf make you love him again? Would that be a grand gesture to win you?”

She swallowed hard and I saw her hands curl into fists. “I’m tired of death. I wouldn’t want to see anyone else die – least of all for me.”

Some of the pain inside of me eased, but she hadn’t entirely answered me, and I wasn’t willing to accept anything less than the absolute truth.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Her eyes tightened, and she shook her head once. “No. I wouldn’t want to go back. But I would. Pain and killing wouldn’t win me.”

I stared at her. Stared and stared and felt… Mother save me, I don’t know what I felt.

I had to go. Now. Had to clear my head, catch my breath…

Turning I strode across her room to the door and put my hand on the handle before I paused. Without looking at her, I spoke up, “He locked you up because he knew – the bastard knew what a treasure you are.” I felt her, down the bond, across the room, felt her tense and focus hard on what I was saying. “That you are worth more than land or gold or jewels. He knew, and wanted to keep you all to himself.”

I didn’t look at her, couldn’t look at her, even as the silence stretched on for one minute. Two.

“He did – does love me Rhysand.”

I nearly laughed. Yes. He loved her, he might be a coward, but yes, he did love her. Nowhere near as much as I did, he couldn’t even come close to loving her as much as I did. That… was what scared me. He nearly killed her with his love. What would my love do to her in the end?

“The issue,” I said, my voice coming out hoarse, “isn’t whether he loved you, it’s how much. Too much. Love can be poison.”

I opened the door and fled her room, retreating to my own and shutting my door solidly behind me, locking it even. It wasn’t enough. I could still feel her in the next room over, could feel her standing there, sad and tormented. Every square inch of my body, every bloody shadowed inch of my soul longed for her, ached for her. I strode to my balcony, casting open the doors and walking out onto it, taking in deep, heady breaths of the salty ocean air.

I wanted to spread my wings, I wanted to leap into the sky and soar, to fly until I no longer hurt, until I couldn’t feel her so close by and yet feel so far out of my grasp.

I couldn’t though – I would not leave her unprotected, and I… I couldn’t leave her period.

Poison. Love could be a poison. My love for her had certainly poisoned me – though it hadn’t left me for dead, no, it had destroyed everything else in me that had once taken her place. Pride and confidence, strength and ego, until only she remained, until she was my strength, until my only pride was in her, until my confidence lay in shreds and my ego… I barked a short, sharp laugh. My ego was nothing but ashes and shadow. I would subjugate myself, would kneel and beg and surrender at her feet – for her, to protect her.

She was my poison and I drank it gladly.

\- - - ~ *~ - - -

I spent the rest of the afternoon in my private quarters, brooding. I heard Feyre and Amren in the lounge at some point, but I did not join them, and they did not invite me. That was probably a wise decision on their part, I was having a difficult time holding myself together. It was funny to think that I once believed myself a relatively calm, collected individual, who approached difficult problems with logic and reasoning – now I struggled to hold myself together for fifteen minutes when alone in a room with her.

Standing in front of my mirror I inspected my outfit, the early summons for dinner had come a half hour ago and we were bid change and be ready for our escort. For me, the change in clothing would not be drastic, more black as always, but the fabric was velvet now, and the buttons held diamonds that glimmered in the candlelight like stars. I did not wear my full crown, I reserved that primarily for activities in my own lands, but I did wear a simple silver diadem on my brow.

Satisfied everything was in order, I made my way out to the lounge to discover I was last to arrive. Amren lounged on a chaise, dressed in a floor length, straight line gown of what looked like liquid silver. I wasn’t ashamed to admit it was beautiful – and she could easily read my approval, her red lips smirking at me. It was Feyre though, who held my attention – she always did of course. The dress was similar to what she had worn earlier, in cut and style, but it was dusty pink and it made her tan skin glow in contrast. Her hair fell loose in gentle curls, held back with a braided rose gold circlet, and she wore matching rose gold earrings with tiny diamonds embedded in them. She looked lovely and devastatingly feminine – still a little thin, but it was not as noticeable anymore, nor was she as pale and the dark circles under her eyes were gone.

She looked at me with those penetrating gray-blue eyes of hers, and I knew without a doubt she was still thinking about our earlier conversation. I gave her a vague sort of smile and inclined my head to her, and likely would have said more if the door to the lounge hadn’t opened and our escort arrived. We were led through the palace to a set of double doors that opened onto a wide-open patio, with a set of stairs on the side that curved down towards a pier and docks. Tethered to one of the docks was a large, exceptionally elegant barge fit with intricate carvings capped with gold. Towards the back a white silk awning covered part of a long table bedecked with a wildly extravagant feast, the dishes and cutlery all made from gold – we were being given the full royal treatment, and it spoke well of Tarquin’s intentions.

There were already a few dignitaries and ministers on the barge, and we were soon intermingling among them, or rather, Feyre and I were. They mostly avoided Amren, and were extremely hesitant towards me, but still engaged me. Feyre however… Everything she had feared about the treatment she might be given for her actions Under the Mountain came to light this evening. She was fawned over, and thanked repeatedly, several fae bowed to her – one was in tears and appeared as though he wanted to fall to his knees before her. I could tell she was tense and uncomfortable, her feelings flooding down the bond twisted up my own stomach with anxiety. None of it appeared on her face however, I was a little astounded how she managed to maintain a look of utter calm – unless you knew how to read her eyes – they were brimming with panic and guilt and it tore at me. I rescued her as much as I could, but it was Amren who was better at driving off the overbearing fae. Amren would saunter up to stand beside Feyre and glare at the fae until they stumbled away, or engage Feyre in a conversation and lead her away long enough for her to catch her breath – I had never been more grateful for my Second than I had been this night.

However it was when Tarquin arrived that I suddenly wished to whisk Feyre away entirely; off of this barge, out of the palace, away from the Summer Court. It was only the job we had to complete that kept me from grabbing her and leaving. He arrived, with Cresseida and Varian flanking him, all of them bedecked in elegant attire, though unlike my own clean cut outfit, their’s were light and billowy. Far better suited for the stifling heat that was so oppressive, even now as the sun was setting. Tarquin’s court turned and bowed to him and he smiled warmly, walking among them and greeting each of them by name until he worked his way towards us.

He greeted me with a grin and a firm hand shake, “I was warned that inviting the Lord of Night to a night time celebration might not have been the wisest course. I told them that I couldn’t see why not, surely you would ensure we would witness a glorious night sky.”

I chuckled, squeezing his hand firmly, “Your courtiers must think me powerful indeed if they think I can manipulate the night sky, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He laughed and let my hand go, then turned to Amren and bowed his head towards her, “You look lovely as ever.”

Amren gave him a wide grin, “As do you High Lord.” Varian was already staring at her again and she smirked towards him. Cresseida stiffened a little at their interaction.

Turning to Feyre, his eyes drinking in the sight of her, head to toe and then meeting her gaze with the intensity of the sun. Tarquin lifted his hand to her, and she placed her own lightly on his, which he lifted and kissed her knuckles lightly, sending murmurs through the crowed. Holding her hand still he said softly, “Feyre, you are simply _radiant_ this evening.”

Radiant. She was radiant – and she was _mine_, and it sent white hot rage through me to hear him use that word for her. It was my word, and my Feyre and… She was not mine. She was free. I swallowed and forced myself to be calm – or at least appear as though I was.

A faint blush rose along her cheeks and she bowed her head to him, “Thank you High Lord, and thank you for inviting us to dine with you tonight.”

He smiled at her, warm and inviting, letting her hand go finally, “Of course, it is my pleasure.”

They stared at each other for another long moment, and the crowd did not miss the intensity of their gazes – nor did I, and Amren shifted towards me, as though in warning. I must not have been hiding my emotions as well as I thought and I clamped down on them hard, forcing my face to be blank.

It was Cresseida who saved me, coughing lightly before saying, “My Lord, the food grows cold and your court hungry.”

Tarquin blinked, as though coming out of a daze, then laughed and turned to face everyone, “Of course, of course, let’s get on with it.”

He signaled the captain, who called out his orders, untying the barge from the deck and sailors pushed off into the calm waters, and with long oars steered us out into the bay. We all took our seats, with Tarquin once again sitting at the head of the table, but this time gesturing for Feyre to sit beside him, which she did without hesitation. I sat a few seats away, with Cresseida on my side, and Amren across from me, Varian a bit further down. The rest of Tarquin’s court took their seats around us, and soon we were all dining and chatting.

The chatter and clank of dishes made it difficult to hear everything that Feyre and Tarquin said, but I still listened as best I could, even as I turned my attention to Cresseida. Smiling at her, I broke all protocol and lifted a wine jug, filling her glass – which raised no few eyebrows; a High Lord was never to serve another, at least not in this court… or most courts for that matter. It did, however, catch her attention and she arched a brow at me as I said softly, “Is it such a shock for me to pour you wine, Cresseida? It’s quite a little thing.”

She studied me for a moment, then picked up her wine glass and took a sip as I put the jug down.

“It’s unusual for anyone to even notice me these days,” She said with a smirk that belayed a festering hurt inside her soul. Ah… My soul ached in turn, because I realized that her pain was going to make this evening so very easy for me – and would likely cause her further pain down the line. I did not like myself very much at this moment.

I leaned back in my seat comfortably, taking a long moment to run my gaze over her, letting her see me take her in. And she was rather beautiful, she always had been – though even before Feyre I had not been interested in her, I could still mark her beauty. “Hmm…” I said in a playful purr, “I’ve never known you to be someone to stand in the background, especially not looking like you do tonight.”

Cresseida let out a laugh and turned in her seat to face me, her entire demeanor preening under my gaze, but subtly – she was clever and cautious. “Yes well, I have always been… forthcoming. A failing of mine I suppose, perhaps that is why I have no suitors.” Her smirk was filled with sarcasm and a touch of bitterness. A few of the courtiers around us glanced at Cresseida with her comment – shock and disapproval on their faces, but we both ignored them.

“This is a lovely boat…” I heard Feyre say, the rest of her comment lost amidst the chatter of the crowd. “It’s belonged to the family for centuries, each High Lord adding something to it…” Tarquin responded in kind.

I grinned and said warmly, “Then they are all fools. I prefer my females bold and… vocal.”

Cresseida’s eyes widened, obviously catching my not so subtle hint and a faint blush spread over her cheeks. Across the table I could see Amren’s smirk – she knew the game I was playing and was highly amused by it; I wish I could be… all I felt was shame. Here I was, toying with her as easily as Amarantha had toyed with me, and as noble as my intentions might be, it was still wrong.

“Hmm,” she responded a little huskily, “what do you like your females to be vocal about?” She arched a brow at me, teasing.

I reached for my wine glass, already full and took a sip of it, eying Cresseida over the brim with a wicked grin, “Anything that pleases them.”

“…they could make a crown a bit more comfortable. This one digs…” I heard Tarquin say, continuing his thread of conversation with Feyre. I didn’t dare look at them, Cresseida would notice and it might break the flow she and I had going – and right now she was open and willing to share.

“How did you keep it…” Feyre asked, her voice curious but with a hint of darkness around the edges.

A roar of laughter from some of the courtiers, followed by a lively debate cut off my ability to hear the two of them for a while.

Cresseida smiled broadly at me, but I felt no pleasure from it, just the aching, unavoidable shame that washed through me in torrential waves. She leaned towards me, resting a hand on the edge of her seat to balance herself and the movement exposed her cleavage to me. I made sure to look appreciatively and give her a lazy, satisfied smile. Leaning towards her as well, we were so close now we could speak in whispers, quiet and seductive, “Tell me, Cresseida, what pleases you…”

A shiver ran through her, and I could see the light blush on her cheeks spread down her neck and over the top of her breasts, her breathing coming a little quicker. Cresseida ran her tongue over her lower lip and then responded softly, “A great many things… though I can’t imagine you want to hear any of them.” She hesitated and then smirked, “You seem more intent on… private matters.”

I chuckled softly, and sat my glass on the table, then reached over and lightly trailed my finger over her hand, “Ah Cresseida, I want to hear whatever matters you wish to talk about… politics, the weather, trade, or even the color of the tablecloths.” I met her eyes again, and smiled with every ounce of charm I had, “Your voice delights me as much as your mind.”

Amren chose at that moment to rise from the table and make her way down the barge, her silky silver dress catching the moonlight and shimmering with each step; shortly after Varian stood and followed her, keeping several paces behind. Her movements caused silence to run down the table, most of the courtiers watching her with trepidation and a touch of fear. When the courtiers started talking again it was in low murmurs, and it was during that quiet that I heard Tarquin and Feyre’s conversation again.

“Tell me what that look means,” he said with quiet curiosity.

Feyre responded with bold, undeniable honesty, “I’m thinking it would be very easy to love you. And easier to call you my friend.”

Devastation.

Agony wracked through my body, as though I had been shot with an ash arrow, the pain of it… In five hundred years I had not felt pain like this, not during the War or the years Under the Mountain, not when Amarantha fucked me or when I killed an innocent – never had I felt so empty. That yawning hole inside of me, which had been healing, closing over with each moment I had spent with Feyre, each time she looked at me with trust and friendship, split wide, threatening to consume me again.

There was nothing to catch me, nowhere I could turn, no one I could lean on. I was absolutely alone.

The scent of fear and darkness, of stone and damp, of Amarantha… cinnamon and vanilla, sweet and spicy, underlaid with power and hatred, it wrapped around me again. For one infinite minute I was trapped Under the Mountain again, reliving the moment when I realized I had lost everything, my power, my friends, my city… my hope. I was alone and I had only one purpose to sustain me – keep my people safe.

_Feyre._

Nothing was different now. We needed the Book, and it didn’t matter that I felt like I was dying, it didn’t matter that I was entirely alone. I had to play the game.

Cresseida, who had been watching Amren’s descent from the table, and her brother following her, returned her attention back to me. She had not seen any of it, she did not know the emptiness inside of me. Good. Wear the mask. Play the game. Save my people. Nothing else mattered.

Smiling at her, almost predatorily, I wrapped my hand lightly around her own, lifting it to kiss her knuckles lightly, “So my lovely Cresseida, what shall we talk about first?”

“Not politics or trade,” she said playfully, “I’m sure we’ll have enough of that in the next few days… and the weather never changes, you would have more to speak of on that score than I.” She twisted her hand lightly and twined her fingers with mine, gentle and intimate, “And I have never been one to care much for the quality of tablecloths.”

“…since I saw her look like that.” Tarquin’s voice picked up over the resumed chatter of the courtiers.

Cresseida leaned forward and whispered in my ear, her lips brushing across my skin lightly, “I would talk of the city, show it to you… This city has been my life, my hope and pride lives in it.” The touch of her… it made me cringe inside, and the memory of vanilla and cinnamon coated my tongue. This… I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to be touched, not intimately, not by her.

_Feyre._

I felt her eyes on me then, felt her watching every move I made. The memory of what it had been like, when Amarantha toyed with me while everyone watched, flashed through my mind… Feyre had heard me called her whore, but she had never seen Amarantha play with me; by the time Feyre had gone Under the Mountain, Amarantha had Tamlin at her side and her public attentions on me had dwindled. Cresseida was not Amarantha – but Feyre was seeing first-hand what it might have been like for me and the shame threatened to devour me.

I wanted to run. I had to stay. I…

_Feyre._

I felt her, down the bond – stronger than before. Her shields were wavering beneath the onslaught of her emotions, and they were tumbling, racing down the bond to me. They weren’t disgust or hatred as I expected they would be, but rather… unhappiness. Such profound unhappiness and loneliness that it threatened to overwhelm my own emotions, my own burning shame. The loneliness she felt, it wasn’t just from tonight, I could feel how it was stretching back over days and weeks… months. It was as though the time I spent with her, the time my friends spent with her, meant nothing. She… She was not happy with us, she was lonely. She said once Velaris was not her home. Was Adriata and the High Lord of Summer her home now?

My chest caved in, my heart shattered, and I struggled to breathe. Play the game. Wear the mask. Save my people.

But I had to look. I had to see her – because what if this would be the very last time?

I turned my head, for the first time since we all sat down for dinner, and kept my face, my eyes, absolutely blank as I looked at Feyre. She was standing, and Tarquin was eyeing her with confusion, standing as well and shifting his gaze between her and myself. Feyre held my gaze, and I could see her emotions written across her face, and could see her eyes calling out to me, it almost seemed as though they were asking for approval. Was she asking my permission to stay?

Looking away, I meet Cresseida’s gaze again and forced a playful smile, chuckling softly. “I would love to see your city Cresseida, by day and by night… have you a place in mind? It would be my honor to escort you.”

Feyre did not need my permission. She was free. Always, always free, and it did not matter that I loved her, it did not matter that she was my Mate, I would abide by her decision. I would fight for her, die for her, but I would also bow to her choice. I would always kneel before her. My Feyre.

Cresseida seemed a little uncertain about the look I had shared with Feyre, but was not completely taken aback, my smile wining her over again. She tilted her head towards me, some of her shimmering white hair slipping over her shoulder, and she seemed delighted when I reach up to brush a lock of it behind her pointed ear.

“I would take you to a place called Reinar, it’s a little restaurant along the shore,” she said, leaning into my touch. “It was… destroyed, but the owner survived, and it became a special project of mine to restore it. I think you would like it.”

I let one of my fingers trail feather light along her jaw and felt her shiver again. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Feyre walk down the length of the ship, her back straight and chin lifted. I dared not look at her again, I instinctively knew I would lose Cresseida’s interest if I did. I waited to see if Tarquin would follow her, as Varian had followed Amren.

He did not, and Feyre did not return.

I wanted… I wanted to go to her, even more than I wanted to run away in guilt and shame. If she was seeking my approval, though she did not have need of it, I would give it to her. I would give her anything, if it meant she were not so lonely or unhappy.

I stayed with Cresseida however, playing the game was the only thing keeping the hole inside of me from devouring me completely. For the next hour we flirted, and I asked her about the restaurant she wanted to take me to, and more about the city, garnering details about trade and politics in tandem with the information she gave me.

“How late does this Reinar stay open?” I asked her, my brow arched in open curiosity. The barge was returning through the calm waters of the bay towards the dock, the evening coming to close on the festivities.

Cresseida’s hand now rested on my arm, almost as though claiming me. “A few more hours, it’s an evening type restaurant so they remain open quite late.”

I smiled and stood, extending my arm to her, “It would honor me greatly if you cared to show me. I would love to see it tonight, your words have painted a picture that I wish to step into.”

Like the paintings Feyre used to make – I had never seen one in person, but through her dreams, and her nightmares, I had seen them. She did not paint anymore, even the thought of trying again upset her – it had once been vital to her and was now a source of pain. I had not been able to help her with that, wasn’t even sure how to; I had thought perhaps time would repair the damage but now… Maybe it wasn’t just time, but a place. Maybe the Night Court was too similar to Under the Mountain; Amarantha had admired my court – Hewn city at least, which I had never taken Feyre too, but perhaps there were still too many similarities, even in Velaris. Perhaps the Summer Court with it’s wide open vistas and brilliant sun, the scent of the sea and the doting attention of its High Lord, perhaps these things would free the art buried deep inside her.

She could have them if she wanted. It would damn me, but I would do everything in my power to ensure she had what she needed to heal. To paint.

Cresseida’s eyes glowed with pleasure as she stood and took my proffered arm, “I would love that, High Lord.”

Keeping my pain, my agony hidden, I leaned towards her and whispered, “You, my dear, may call me Rhysand.”

She beamed at me, and I led her down the table to the center of the barge where a crowd was forming, preparing to disembark as the dock came into sight. I took the distraction of weaving through the crowd to scan it for Feyre – and though I saw Amren, and even Varian, standing off to the side, close to each other but not near enough to talk, I did not see Feyre.

When the barge docked and it was tied in place, we left among the first of the crowd, and I let Cresseida guide me along the pier and to a different set of stairs, making our way around the rim of the palace and towards the city that sprawled around one side of it. Behind me I could still hear the chatter of the courtiers as they broke up and made their way to their homes or other parties. I could not see her, or hear her, but behind me I could feel Feyre, I could feel the tumble of emotions inside of her.

I was so damn empty.

\- - - ~*~ - - -

The restaurant was charming – there was not denying that. The floors were made with smooth, multicolored stone pavers in different shades of browns. The walls were white washed and seemed to almost glow in the golden candle light. The ceiling sported large, pale colored wood beams, and the same wood accented the door ways and the large fireplace that was the central focus of the restaurant. Along one wall ran a long, hand carved bar, behind it a large mirror that reflected all of the candle light and showed a lovely reflection of all the fae laughing and dining in the large, but thoroughly intimate restaurant.

This was somewhere I would have loved to bring Feyre to, alone, just the two of us.

Cresseida looked up at me, her eyes bright and hopeful – I had the feeling that no one else had cared to see this gem she had worked so hard to restore. I let my gaze trail the room appreciatively for several minutes, then met her gaze and smiled with genuine warmth.

“It’s lovely Cresseida, just like you.” I gestured with my free hand, my other still claimed by her, “You have done excellent work here.”

A brilliant smile was her response and she tugged on my arm, leading me to the bar where an older looking fae with the customary white hair and dark skin of the Summer Court was talking to another fae that appeared to be a waiter. When he spotted Cresseida he threw his arms wide in excitement.

“My Lady!” He announced loudly, causing many surrounding fae to pause and look at her, their eyes widening and smiles appearing in delight at her appearance. He gave her a deep, flourished bow and then came around the bar to give her a warm hug. “Your honor me!”

Cresseida laughed bright and unfettered, hugging him back and leaning to kiss both of his cheeks.

“Ah Halamar, I’m so pleased to see you.” She grinned at him then let him go, taking a step back to gesture at me, and his eyes went wide – and it seemed at that moment everyone else saw me as well and the entire restaurant went silent. “I wanted to bring my friend along and show him the gem of Adriata, I hope you don’t mind. Allow me to introduce the High Lord of the Night Court.”

I slid my hands into my pockets as the tension in the restaurant rose until it was nearly palatable, thick and heavy. I smirked gently at Halamar, a touch of humor on my face.

“Cresseida has been regaling me about the charms of your restaurant, and I must agree with her. We have nothing so lovely in the Night Court, this place is truly charming.”

Halamar swallowed, glanced around the restaurant at all of the patrons, then took a breath and bowed deeply to me, as deeply if not more so than the one he had given Cresseida only seconds before, only this time it was rigid with a touch of fear.

“High Lord, you truly honor me with your visit. I beg you please give me the privilege of serving you myself.” He said, his voice strong, with only a hint of trembling beneath it.

Remaining calm and still, so as not to send the patrons flying in terror, I bid him rise and gestured briefly with one hand.

“I believe a quiet table and drinks would more than suffice tonight, master Halamar. Cresseida and I have a lot of catching up to do.”

He bowed again and lead us through the silent room to a small, intimate booth in a darker corner of the restaurant. As soon as we were seated and mostly out of sight, the conversation in the restaurant quickly became a buzz of agitated excitement, and I could hear many comments about me and why Cresseida and I were here together. We sat close, her body not quite touching mine, but close enough I could feel her heat and count each breath, and she immediately rested her hand on my arm again.

Halamar quickly brought us glasses of rather good red wine, and though we had not asked for it, a small platter of split shell oysters on a bed of ice with a sharp, vinegar-based sauce to drizzle over them. Cresseida appeared delighted at the treat, though it was not a favorite of mine I still sampled a few to please her.

Reclining into the padded booth I held my glass of wine, sipping at it slowly as I watched her while she talked, explaining in detail the renovations that had been done to return this place to its charmed state.

“The inside was completely destroyed by fire,” she said with a slight frown. “It’s a wonder the structure of the building was still sound.”

I could barely focus on what she was saying, my mind was still swirling with thoughts of Feyre, of what she had told Tarquin and the jumble of emotions that even now, even this far away, were bearing down on me. Her shields were solid once again, so I couldn’t see through her eyes but somehow, I knew she remained alone this night, that she was not spending it with Tarquin. That thought at least gave me some comfort – if she wanted to be with Tarquin, to stay here in Summer Court, at least she had not yet acted on it.

“It is quite remarkable how you were able to rebuild after such devastation.” I tilted my head at her, giving her a curious look, “Might I ask why this place, out of so many others, is special to you?”

A faint blush touched her cheeks, and her eyes went down cast as she was about to admit a secret that was precious to her. “My… parents met here, and it had always been a favorite place of theirs. I… wanted to rebuild it, in their memory.”

My chest tightened, this secret… I would not use it to manipulate her. It was too private, it belonged to her alone.

Setting my glass of wine down I reached out and placed a finger under her chin, lifting her head lightly to meet her gaze, and said simply, softly, “I’m sorry, Cresseida.”

Her eyes, dark with emotion, eased and she managed a smile and nod of her head, “Thank you.”

I released my hold on her and after a moment of silence, changed the direction of the conversation, asking her further questions about the city and its reconstruction. She explained sourcing the materials, and what districts they were focusing on first – housing primarily and branching out from there to business and temples. Her voice was bright and animated, she truly had pride in her work and her city, and it was obvious how few people seemed to notice or recognize her efforts. They let her “play” with the reconstruction, but ignored her suggestions in all other areas, and it left her bitter and unsatisfied. She was proud of her work, yes, but she knew she could do so much more, and during the time Under the Mountain, Cresseida had practically run the city. When Amarantha’s army came to sack it, she had evacuated the civilians into the country side, ensured there was food and medical aid to the survivors and kept everyone together and as calm as they could be. She had ruled and ruled well – and was now sent to sit on the sidelines, likely until an advantageous marriage could be arranged.

As the hours passed, she continued to open up to me, sharing with me her take on the political machinations of the court, and on the trade alliances between other Courts, and eventually her opinions on her cousin Tarquin and his take on ruling.

“He’s young, and rather ambitious… I don’t think his beliefs are wrong, only his approach – he’s going at it too directly and it’s beginning to upset several of the older fae in his court. If he isn’t careful…” She trailed off as I twined a lock of her hair on my finger lightly. We had touched each other carefully, with a degree of intimacy, but I kept a certain distance which she respected, and yet… chaffed at. I knew what path her mind was heading towards; I knew that she was interested in bedding me and intended to make the offer. It was obvious in the way her body curled towards me, how her lips parted, and her eyes burned.

It made me sick. Not because of her, it wasn’t her fault – once you worked past the bristly parts of her, Cresseida truly was lovely and passionate and clever. Her desire to bed me wasn’t coming from a place of cruelty or even power play, she just wanted to spend a night with someone who was as interested in her mind as her body. She didn’t expect anything else to come from it, she wasn’t looking for love or a relationship with me, just for a night where someone was interested in her. And yet… I was still disgusted. I was fast realizing that casual sex was not something I could take part in anymore… It was partially because of what Amarantha had done to me, how she had used my body and tortured my mind, and damn near broken my soul. In reality though, it was mostly because of Feyre – because I didn’t _want_ anyone else, couldn’t imagine ever wanting anyone else. And this casual flirting and teasing, it felt like a betrayal. I was betraying the female I loved with every second I spent here with Cresseida and it made me sick and feel dirty and all I wanted was isolation and a bath… and to beg forgiveness I knew I did not deserve.

Play the game. Wear the mask. Save my people. I chanted this mantra to myself over and over, trying to hold myself together just a little longer.

“Perhaps,” I said with a mild smirk, “It’s time for new approaches, perhaps it’s time to shake up the way things are done. If his courtiers don’t approve, then perhaps they should no longer be among his court, and he should replace them with fae that share his vision and have the passion to make sure he succeeds.” I had been faced with this same problem when I took up the mantle of High Lord and had made the decision to dismiss most of my court when I appointed Amren, Mor, Cassian and Azriel – as most of my court had refused to recognize their authority. The decision had led to many complications and a few conflicts, but I never regretted it.

Cresseida gaped at me, her eyes wide, “He can’t… He needs their advice, they’ve served for so long, and he’s young…”

Trailing a finger along her cheek I said softly, “Being a young High Lord is not a failing – we have had many older High Lords who are cruel, sadistic bastards.” I arched a brow at her, “Beron is an excellent example.” Cresseida frowned slightly, but I knew she agreed – no one liked Beron. “Amarantha shook our world down to the bedrock, Prythian is not the same as it once was. We have a rare chance to build a new world, a better one – we need new ideas, new approaches, and perhaps Tarquin can be our guide.”

She leaned into my touch, thinking, then asked with a playful grin, “Are you telling me, Rhysand, that you would follow him?”

I smirked teasingly and trailed my finger up, along the crest and point of her ear, causing her to shiver with pleasure, “Hmm… You like to ask dangerous questions my lovely Cresseida.” I leaned in, and whispered, “Dangerous questions have dangerous answers… are you sure you want to know?”

A shudder passed through her and for a moment there was fear in her eyes, but it soon passed and was replaced with a wicked gleam, “Mmm… yes, I wish an answer, but not to that question. I have a different, more dangerous question for you.”

My heart tightened and my body tensed. I already knew.

Arching a brow at her, “And what would that be my dear?”

Her breathing hitched and her lips parted as she slid her hand up over my arm and brushed her fingers over my face, cupping my cheek lightly, “Will you come to my room, to my bed tonight?”

Disgust and hatred pumped through me in time with my racing heart. I struggled to maintain my mask and contain my racing thoughts – I had no intention of bedding her, but I had to think of an acceptable way of letting her down gently, yet my emotions were making it difficult to focus.

_Feyre._

She was my poison and my destruction, but Feyre was also my salvation, the safe harbor to which I could always return. I thought hard about her, thought about that moment when she had cried during her first practice with Cassian and I had enclosed her in my wings, when I had showed her my darkness and the stars glistening among it.

_Peace._

She had been at peace in that moment. I drank that peace into myself and forced my racing heart to slow.

_Feyre._

I brushed my finger lightly across Cresseida’s lower lip and smiled at her, with a touch of sadness, “Ah Cresseida, you are lovelier than the stars, but I cannot accept your offer.” She frowned and began to pull away from me, the flush on her cheek rising from embarrassment of rejection. I gripped her chin lightly, refusing to let her draw back. “I am not here for pleasure Cresseida, but rather for business and the trade alliances I need to arrange for my people are too important. You serve your people as I serve my own, and I cannot risk insult by sharing your bed. Please, I beg your forgiveness and your understanding.”

Cresseida stared at me, long and hard, but after a moment her face softened, and she nodded. She wasn’t pleased by my rejection, but she understood it, she understood the game and the implications that would be made if it was noticed that we spent a night together – and it would be noticed. Servants saw everything and there was no better way to spread information you wanted kept secret than through a band of servants. I knew however, that our evening of flirting was over, it was easy to see she had closed herself off and I would not be able to draw more information from her tonight.

Giving her another smile, I said, “Will you allow me to escort you to your door?”

Offering me a faint smile in return and a nod, we both rose and left the nearly empty restaurant – I had not realized quite how late it was. Halamar bid us a good night with further bows and we made our way out onto the streets and began the climb to the palace. It was dark but the street lights offered a dim view of the city and I was able to see first-hand some of what she had told me earlier. For her part, Cresseida mostly remained silent, which I understood and respected.

Before long we were at the palace and the guards bowed us inside. Cresseida led me through the halls until we came to her room and stopped at her door, a touch of hope still lingering in her eyes. I took her hand, kissing her knuckles lightly and smiled with actual kindness, not just that of my mask.

“Thank you for a lovely evening Cresseida, it has been a pleasure to know you better.”

She let out a low breath, then bowed her head and smiled, “It was my pleasure and honor Rhysand.”

Turning, she opened her door and stepped inside, shutting it behind her without looking at me again. Without a backward glance I strode through the darkened hallways to our guest quarters, all the while shuddering inside with self-hatred. Entering the lounge, it was dark and empty and the loneliness of it struck me hard, like a blow to my stomach. Breathing a little heavily, I made my way to my room and nearly staggered inside, shutting the door behind me. Leaning against it, my eyes closed, I twisted up a tendril of darkness and slid it out, reaching first into Feyre’s room – I had to check, had to know…

Safe. She was safe, and alone, and sleeping.

Relief. There was at least that comfort.

Drawing the darkness back inside of myself I made my way to my bathing chamber, stripping off my clothing and dropping it carelessly on the floor as I walked to the large, sunken tub. Filling it with nearly scalding hot water, I slipped inside, hissing in pain, and yet savoring the agony of it. I still felt disgusting, but the searing pain of the water blunted the impact a little. I began scrubbing at myself, as though I could wash away the memories of Amarantha and the words Feyre had spoken, the scent of the Mountain, and the guilt of playing Cresseida. I scrubbed until my skin hurt, until I felt nearly frantic with the need to cleanse myself.

It was only when the water began to cool, and I was trembling from the chill of it that my frantic scrubbing stopped. I stared down at my body, red and raw, and yet still I felt dirty. I wanted to cry or scream or… Mother above I don’t know what. Dragging myself up out of the tub I wrapped a towel around my body before making my way into the bedroom and collapsing back onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. I knew without a doubt that tonight I would have nightmares, and they would be bad… and I could not let that happen here. I thought briefly about going to Feyre, waking her and demanding we talk, asking her about what she said to Tarquin. It might break my heart, but I had to know the truth, and it would definitely keep me awake. I couldn’t bear to wake her in the end though; her sleep was still rough and if she was resting peacefully, then I did not want to disturb her – at least one of us would be ready to face the day tomorrow.

I stood instead and dug in my wardrobe, pulling out a pair of sleep pants and donned them, then walked to the corner of the room and picked up a simple straight back chair, carrying it out to the balcony. I briefly thought of flying, but I didn’t want to reveal my wings unless necessary and honestly, I wanted to be close to Feyre. There was still a part of me that was panicking at the thought that she might want to stay here, that I might lose her again. I put the chair down and then lowered myself onto it, leaning back and crossing my arms. Looking up at the stars I saw that dawn wasn’t far off, I could watch the sunrise and then wait to join Feyre and Amren for breakfast; that prospect cheered me a little at least.

It wasn’t as good as flying amongst the stars, and they weren’t nearly as brilliant and beautiful as they were at home, but still I lost myself amongst them, breathing in the fresh clean air that smelled nothing of the Mountain.

It helped. A little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you have a minute or two to leave a kudos or comment I would really appreciate it.
> 
> I am still relatively new to writing fan fiction and I would love any critiques you can throw my way, good or bad.
> 
> Thank you so much! - Otter


	3. Wish Upon a Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: If you have not read A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas I strongly suggest you go read it first - it's undoubtedly better written and what I have written will spoil the book for you.
> 
> I am re-writing all of ACOMAF from Rhysand's perspective, using all of the original characters/scenes/dialogue, and adding in new bits and bobs to flesh his story out more.
> 
> This Section:  
Ch. 1 - Rhysand, Feyre and Amren head to the Summer Court (New scenes)  
Ch. 2 - Dinner on the barge, and Rhysand spends time with Cresseida (New scenes)  
Ch. 3 - Rhysand and Tarquin bargain, then Rhysand has a private chat with Feyre (Several new scenes)  
Ch. 4 - Dinner with Tarquin and the location of the Book  
Ch. 5 - Stealing the Book (Several new scenes)  
Ch. 6 - Blood Rubies and nightmares (Several new scenes)  
Ch. 7 - Waiting for the Queens to respond (Several new scenes)  
CH. 8 - A/N: An apology and update on health and writing
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> *Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.

She did not come to breakfast.

It was a private affair, a small table in the lounge laden with a hearty spread of food – more than just the three of us could ever hope to devour, especially considering Amren would eat none of it. I was out early, dressed for the day and sipping a cup of tea, waiting for them – I had not slept and I could feel the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me. Amren came out, dressed in more of her customary grey that normally would seem bland, but she made it appear mysterious and intriguing. Crossing the room, she came to sit beside me at the table, her silver eyes sweeping the length of me and then arched a brow.

“You look like crap Rhysand.”

I let out a low, humorless laugh and shrugged, “I was out late with Cresseida, she was unusually engaging.”

Amren smirked at me, “Oh indeed, it was noticed. Learn anything useful?”

Another shrug, “Yes and no, plenty on the politics and trade at least. It might help, but I’m not sure how yet.” I glanced over my shoulder towards Feyre’s door, then back at Amren. “I… didn’t see her again last night. How was she?”

Amren stared at me for a very long minute before replying. “She was quiet, and then she went to bed.” A pause, then, “Alone.”

I swallowed and nodded, turning my attention to look out the windows at the sky.

“Rhysand-“ Amren began but I shook my head once and cut her off.

“Not here and not now Amren. Too many ears.” I eyed her, she considered me then nodded.

We sat in silence for a while, the food on my plate remaining untouched and my tea going cold. The loneliness was eating at me again, even with Amren sitting beside me.

A faint smile touched my lips as the thought made me remember something about last night, “Varian is turning out to be quite… loyal.”

Amren let out a laugh as she leaned back, eyes gleaming, “He is quite intent on me, I still haven’t determined why but I’m sure I will.”

I nodded, the tiny bit of humor fading away on the sea breeze and we sat and waited.

She did not come.

An hour later there was a knock at the door and a servant entered, bowed and informed us that Tarquin was awaiting our presence in one of the council chambers. We stood and I brushed invisible dirt from myself while Amren made her way towards the servant, who blanched a little at the sight of her. I turned my attention to Feyre’s door, wondering if I should check on her…

Letting out a sigh, I straightened my spine and slid my mask into place and followed after Amren and the servant. We were led to a large council chamber that seemed to wrap around the circular wooden table at the center of the room, the navigator star carved into the top of it and decorated with gold filigree. Tarquin was standing beside a chair, talking with Varian who was seated near him, while Cresseida, sitting opposite of them a few chairs down, remained silent. They all looked up as we entered, Tarquin giving us another warm smile, Varian’s face remaining cool and indifferent, and Cresseida… she appeared more open than she had at our first meeting the day before, but still cautious.

“Good morning,” Tarquin said and gestured for us to sit. I took a seat near Tarquin, a few chairs down from Cresseida, and Amren sat opposite me at the table, only a chair apart from Varian.

“Good morning,” I responded in kind, watching as Tarquin sat and as his gaze went to the door, as though expecting to see Feyre walk through. We had similar wishes this morning it would seem.

“Will Feyre be joining us?” He asked, his head tilting a little with open curiosity.

I shrugged once and remained outwardly indifferent, “I’m not sure, I do not require her to participate in these conferences, it is her decision.”

They all looked at me with varying degrees of shock.

“She is your ambassador-“ Varian began but I cut him off smoothly.

“Yes, she is, but Feyre is her own person. I do not command nor control her.”

Silence.

Tarquin arched a brow at me and finally said, “Interesting.”

I didn’t dignify that with a response, and instead deflected, “Shall we begin?”

Another pause, then Tarquin nodded and gestured, papers appearing on the table before him, and I did the same. We began with trade, leaning in to discuss what resources we each had and what we might be willing to trade in exchange. It had been a very long time since we had direct trade with the Summer Court, most of our outside resources came from the neighboring Solar Courts, so the things they had to offer were new and unexpected – and would be quite valuable. I imagined it was the same for his Court in regard to what we had to offer in return. If we managed to steal the Book without their catching on, these trades could be quite lucrative for both our peoples.

“Art?” Tarquin stopped at one of the items on the list I had provided, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “You have included art in your trade potentials?”

I actually smiled and leaned back, “Indeed. Shocking as it might be, we have a small community of artists among my people, their work is quite good.”

Cresseida gaped at me with disbelief, in fact all of them looked at me with shock – I had no doubt what they were imagining. Portraits of grotesque orgies in darkness and despair, I wanted to snort in derision, but there had been a time when that was the case – in Hewn city it still was. In Velaris however…

“Would you care to see an example?” I asked with amusement.

Tarquin leaned back and said with curiosity, “Please.”

They all watched as I gestured, and across the table appeared an array of art from my pocket realm, from hand sculpted pottery to blown glass ornaments, wood carvings and woven tapestry’s, jewelry and a few smaller paintings – the sight of them making my throat tighten a little, thinking about Feyre.

Amren only smiled, but the rest stared a little in amazement – none of the pieces resembled anything of what they expected, they all bespoke of color and joy and life.

Tarquin looked at me, amazed and delighted, and I shrugged, “Consider it a gift, a sample of what we can offer.”

He let out a laugh and shook his head, lifting his pen and making a mark on his sheet, “Art is definitely a trade we would be interested in – but not immediately, we’re in greater need of resources at the moment.”

The discussion of trade went on, the Summer Court had its own art to offer, but it was the crafting materials that were of greater interest to us – the pearls and shells and coral they harvested from the sea. We had that as well in Velaris, but not as much and not as good quality – our waters were rougher and deeper than the safer bays of the Summer Court. They also had quite a selection of food, we had no need of sea food, but they had wide orchards and fields of fruits and vegetables which were difficult for us to grow in the Night Court as much of our land was mountainous and rocky.

After an hour or so servants came in and provided us with refreshments, trays of finger foods and pitchers of wine and fruit sweetened tea. Tarquin dismissed the servants after and we served ourselves, the gathering official but a little more intimate. Amren did not partake in any of the food or drink, and did not engage often, but when she did her words were direct and often amusing. Tarquin began to take a liking to her, and would smile at her witty comments, engaging her with a degree of humor that I had begun to really appreciate in him.

It was two hours into our discussion when the talk of trade had begun to die down and Varian turned his attention to me with a slight frown.

“You said that Hybern is no longer readying for war, that attack is imminent. Do you have numbers? Types of troops and weaponry? What information can you give us?”

I spread my hands, “I can’t give you precise numbers, the King of Hybern is good at shielding. We did catch a spy a few weeks ago and were able to garner some information from him. Their army is large, and they’re well equipped. Their bay was filled with ships and they appear ready to launch.”

Tarquin’s brows drew together, and he and Varian glanced at each other.

Varian looked back to me and asked, “Do you have an idea where they will make landfall?”

I hesitated for only a brief moment before saying slowly, “They want to take down the Wall. I don’t know their exact landfall location, but I would guess it will be somewhere close to there.”

Cresseida looked at me sharply, a glimmer of realization flashing in her eyes, as though she had just figured something out. Surprisingly she didn’t speak up, she didn’t indicate to either Tarquin or Varian what she had pieced together. Either she wouldn’t tell them at all, or she was waiting until they were alone.

Tarquin was studying me, considering my words before he said, “Our fleet isn’t as strong as it once was. If their fleet is as large as you are suggesting, we can’t hope to conquer them in open water.”

Thanks to Azriel, I knew the exact count of the Summer Court fleet – unless he was hiding some with magic, which was possible, but unlikely. If we could have stopped them from ever landing on our shores that would have been best, but they didn’t have the numbers so we would engage Hybern on land instead.

I gave him a nod, “That is understandable, but you can still offer support when they land, I hope?”

Tarquin folded his hands on the table in front of him, staring down on the sheets of paper before him. “I can’t make you any promises yet Rhysand, you have come to me with a warning and promise of trade – both of which I appreciate it, but you have also offered me no proof. I don’t doubt you, but I can’t promise troops and aid without more information.”

He looked up at me then and I could see the blue of his eyes, resolved yet cautious, and I gave him a grim nod. “I understand of course, and if I could I would lay proof before you I would – but I’m afraid the proof will be the day they step foot onto our shores. All I ask is that you prepare yourself, because when that day comes, we will need your aid. We will need everyone’s aid.”

Amren leaned forward then, looking at Varian with a smirk, her voice holding a hint of taunting amusement, “And what of you Varian? Captain of the Guard, will you fight or remain behind to guard the palace?”

Varian stiffened slightly and eyed her with a slight frown as he said, “Both Tarquin and I used to lead the fleet. I have combat experience and unless my Lord commands it, I will sail with them, or fight on the battlefield.”

Tarquin glanced at me; a brow arched as if asking what her intentions were. I wasn’t sure myself and made no response as I watched her continue to smirk.

“Well then, that’s a comfort,” Was all she said before she leaned back in her chair.

I knew Amren was playing the game, keeping Varian distracted, but I was beginning to wonder if there wasn’t another game underfoot that I didn’t know the rules to.

Another hour passed, spent in discussion of war and potential allies, with Tarquin and Varian suggesting several unexpected but valid points, and even Cresseida spoke up a few times. At first, Tarquin and Varian were prone to overlook her comments, but each time I turned to listen to her, asked her additional questions, and if I agreed I told her as much. She was shocked the first time, then pleased and became more engaged, and soon Tarquin and Varian were including her in the conversation. It didn’t count for much as an apology for having led her on, but at least this time she was included, and she seemed to glow with pleasure – I had given her that much at least.

An hour or so past lunch a servant entered and bowed, Tarquin gesturing for him to speak.

“Forgive me High Lord,” the servant said, “but it is near two and you wished to be reminded of your afternoon appointment.”

Tarquin immediately glanced towards the large windows on one side of the room and laughed, “So it is. Thank you.” He gestured and the servant bowed and left the room as Tarquin shuffled his papers into a neater stack.

“I will have this sent to my ministers to review. Shall we meet tomorrow and continue the discussion then?”

I nodded, leaving my stack disorganized and simply gestured, sending it to my pocket realm, “Yes, I will discuss it further with Amren and Feyre this afternoon and will be prepared to meet with you again tomorrow.”

Tarquin smiled warmly and nodded before he stood and made his way towards the chamber’s door. We all followed him into the hallway and though she spoke not a word my gaze immediately went to Feyre, as though summoned by her. She was standing in the hall waiting for us and the sight of her… it soothed me, eased something inside of me that had been tensed since the day before, that was until I truly looked at what she was wearing, and then my heart clenched tightly.

She was dressed in a gown of sea foam green that fell around her in light clouds of fabric, rose gold embroidery accenting the delicate fabric. Her hair was curled and braided back, leaving her face open and exposed where she had painted her lips with pink and dusted her cheeks with blush – she looked innocent and sweet… and diminished; beautiful, but it was a lie and it cut at me. She was not this – innocent and delicate, she was fierce, a warrior and this lie did not become her, even as I knew the lie was necessary. What hurt the most, however, was that her choice in clothing made her look as though she was already part of the Summer Court.

I swallowed hard and stared at her, trying to meet her gaze, desperate to read her eyes, to see her look at me with… anything. Hate, fear, anger, disgust, just… anything. She refused, keeping her gaze away from me and Cresseida, looking to Amren for a brief moment before turning her gaze to Tarquin, her face softening at the sight of him.

_Feyre._

Tarquin walked straight to her, inclining his head with a smile, “You’re looking well today.”

Bowing her head to him she said quietly, “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Amren took a step forward and shrugged, “We were finishing up a rather lively debate about armadas and who might be in charge of a unified front.” She glanced at Varian with a light smirk, “Did you know that before they became so big and powerful, Tarquin and Varian led Nostrus’s fleet.”

I felt Varian stiffen behind me, but ignored it and him, not even vaguely interested in trying to figure out what game he and Amren were playing at anymore. All of my attention was on Feyre, the desperate need for her to acknowledge me beginning to overwhelm me completely.

Feyre looked at Tarquin with a look of playful shock. “You didn’t mention you were a sailor.”

Tarquin looked a little embarrassed as he reached up to rub the back of his neck. “I had planned to tell you during our tour.”

Panic surged through me now – I hadn’t heard of this plan last night, she must have arranged it, a private tour with him. It was a good plan, a good chance to look for the Book, except for two problems – if she was alone with him it would not be possible for Amren and I to protect her, though I honestly did not believe Tarquin intended on hurting her. No, the real problem was with me – I did not want her to be left alone with him, I didn’t want her to grow more attached to him.

I did not want to lose her.

Tarquin held out his arm to her, “Shall we?”

The panic grew in me as she still refused to look at me, slipping her arm through his and called over her shoulder at us, “See you later.”

_Feyre._

I reached out without thinking, following down our bond until I came to her shield, solid and imposing, and brushed a claw of darkness over it.

_Please,_ I thought, _please let me in._

Her shield did not waiver, and instead I watched as she took a step closer to Tarquin and looked up at him and _smiled._

She smiled for Tarquin so easily, and I… I had never earned even one of her smiles.

I was surprised I did not fall to the ground in defeat.

Drawing my talons back from her mind – what was the point? – I watched her walk away with Tarquin, for once my mind going completely blank.

It was only when they were finally out of sight that I turned without a word to anyone and walked back to the guest quarters, the empty hole inside of me widening, swallowing me bit by bit, my darkness rising up as I felt myself beginning to lose control.

_Feyre._

\- - - ~*~ - - -

I was sitting on the side of my bed, staring at the floor, my mind, my heart, my very soul completely empty. I didn’t know how to go on anymore, how to fight for her anymore, it felt like everything I had done was only ashes and shadow. I knew I didn’t deserve her, that I wasn’t worthy of her, but I thought we were growing closer, that she was starting to care for me… One day in the Summer Court and it was all gone, every bit of kindness and sympathy she had for me.

_Feyre._

What was the point of any of it? I could feel the emptiness inside of me spreading, devouring me – I had held it at bay with my friends, with the fight against Hybern, with… with Feyre. The truth was though, nothing but Feyre mattered, the love I felt for my people, for my friends, it was a pale shadow compared to her. She was the thing I had been fighting towards for so long, and I had lost her.

“You are a complete idiot.” The voice was Amren’s, and it was harsh and cold.

I managed to lift my head to look at her, feeling nothing but bleak hopelessness inside of me – I didn’t even have the strength to respond.

Amren was glaring at me, her silver eyes glowing and swirling with a rage I didn’t understand, and honestly didn’t care to. In three quick strides, she crossed the room, raised her hand, and _slapped_ me.

I nearly fell back onto the bed, reeling in shock and stared at her, wide eyed, my cheek burning.

“What-“ I began, completely addled from the blow, from the fact that Amren – _Amren _had hit me.

In the next instant I felt a bubble of power form around us, sealing us in, protecting us from prying eyes and ears.

“You damn bloody idiot, she isn’t planning on running off with Tarquin,” she snarled at me, her voice dropping low and cold. “You brought her here to find the Book, told her to use any means necessary, and she is playing the damn game! The girl is barely an adult, new to being fae, can hardly control her powers, and she is playing the game better than you, a High Lord of some five hundred years.”

I stared at her, eyes wide, breathing hard. “T-the… They’re attracted…”

Amren threw her arms in the air, “Of course they are! She has a tiny piece of his power inside of her you idiot, they sense each other, sense that power in each other – not to mention that Tarquin isn’t ugly, and she isn’t stupid. It doesn’t mean she is going to run off with him!” She let out a long, low breath, then said quietly, calmly, “Do you trust your Mate so little, Rhysand?”

I flinched at that – that blow had hurt more than her slap. Because I did trust Feyre, trusted her with everything that I was, trusted her with my life, my friend’s lives, my court, hell the whole damn world. I just stared at Amren, unsure of what to say, unsure of what I was thinking or feeling.

Amren shook her head and paced away from me, muttering under her breath, “Mate’s, Cauldron save me, you can be so tiresome.” Turning she looked at me again, “Rhysand, she is your Mate, whether or not she knows it – she has a connection to you that goes deeper than the power she was given by Tarquin, or the basic attraction she feels to him. Feyre is drawn to you, will always be drawn to you, that’s how it works. More than that, she is your _friend_, and if you haven’t figured that out by now then you’re a complete idiot.”

Swallowing, I raised a hand and gestured briefly in the direction of the council chamber we had just left. “You saw her though; she wouldn’t even look at me…”

Amren snorted, “Of course not – you spent all of last night flirting with Cresseida. You hardly even looked at her and she’s pissed off at you, and punishing you for it.” She crossed her arms and stared at me, eyes narrowed, “And why do you think that is, Rhysand? Why would Feyre be pissed off that you spent the night flirting with another female and ignoring her?”

I was pretty sure this is how it felt to be swept out by the tide.

“Feyre…” I began, uncertain, then continued slowly, “is attracted to me?”

Amren just stared at me, as though I was the dumbest, most ignorant, pig-headed fae she had ever had the misfortune of knowing.

I stared at her, trying to wrap my head around it… I had felt flashes of attraction, of interest from Feyre – but I just chalked that up to basic hormonal responses. It wasn’t like it had been consistent, and she hadn’t tried to touch me or make a move – sure she flirted back on occasion, but it was just a game to her. But… what if it wasn’t? What if she was mad at me because I had ignored her? Because I spent the night flirting with another female? Was… Feyre attracted to me?

Reaching up, I rubbed my hands over my face and took in a long breath, held it until my lungs began to burn, and then let it out slowly, trying to give my mind time to process this.

“Feyre is playing the game,” I said slowly. It came out as a statement, but it was really more of a question.

“Yes,” was all Amren said.

Fine. I didn’t know if I believed that Feyre was attracted to me – I wasn’t sure I had the strength for that much hope. At the very least, I had insulted her last night, which was understandable. However, despite that, Feyre was doing her job, and we had jobs to do as well.

Dropping my hands, I looked up at Amren, giving her a nod, “Alright. Let’s get to work then.”

The emptiness inside of me wasn’t gone, it was still threatening to devour me, still pulsing with hunger – but I held it at bay, for now. I could hold it together long enough to talk to Feyre, to get to the bottom of it with her. I could wait for that, wait for Feyre.

Amren gave me a nod, some of her rage subsiding and she went straight to it. “Have you come across any clues?”

Shaking my head, I straightened myself on the bed. “No, not even a whiff of a clue, which I suppose isn’t too shocking, they’ve had hundreds of years to hide it. What about you, have you been able to sense anything?”

Frowning slightly, she shook her head once, “No, nothing. I’ve tried focusing on anything that feels abnormal, something that shouldn’t belong, but I can’t sense anything. If it is here, in Adriata, it’s been made to feel like it belongs.”

I nodded, “Shielded then, and I believe it is here. If they were going to shield it, they would do so with their best resource – the sea. Keeping it close by that resource would ensure the shield was maintained, even if there was a transition in power.”

Amren arched a brow, “Why keep it in the city though? They have an entire shore line they could stow it along.”

I managed a grim smile, “There are two rules to buried treasure – bury it somewhere you can find it again, and somewhere no one would expect you to. Of course, it also helps that no one believes the Cauldron is real or that the Book is useful for anything.”

Snorting delicately, Amren dropped her arms. “Well it’s up to Feyre then, unless you want to try and use some really dirty, extremely noticeable magic.”

“No,” I swallowed once, then said quietly, “I trust my Mate.”

Amren just gave me a look that said – _about time you idiot_ – then made a gesture and the bubble around us popped and the power disappeared. She left right after, leaving me alone to my thoughts.

I probably should have gone out, sought out Cresseida or some minister, kept up the ruse and played the game. Instead I left my room, finding the lounge empty and a brush along Amren’s room found it empty as well – I had no idea where she went off to. I walked to Feyre’s room, opened the door, and walked inside, shutting it behind me. I couldn’t go out and play games right now, not while my head was in such a state of disorder with thoughts about her, I would stay here in her room and wait for her.

I had to know the truth.

\- - - ~*~ - - -

It was a couple of hours before Feyre returned, and I spent that entire time in her bedroom. I sat on the edge of her bed, so many thoughts swirling through my head that it ached with the effort of trying to organize them. At some point I sagged back against the bed, half laying on it with my legs hanging off the edge and tucked my arms up under my head. I was too tense to try and sleep, but I rested my body while I waited for her.

It was the sound of a door opening and closing in the distance that first alerted me, it could be Amren returning, but… no. I knew it was her, I could feel her close by; my heart started racing. I stayed in my casual position, waiting, and then heard her door open, and already I could feel the annoyance rolling off of her.

“What do you want?” She bit out with anger, shutting the door behind her firmly.

Yes, Amren was right about that much at least – I had pissed her off. Was she right about the rest?

I shifted onto my elbows and looked at her, Mother above, even pissed off at me she was beautiful. I remembered how it used to be, back when she was still part of the Spring Court – when she was angry Feyre was sometimes easier to work with, would unintentionally give you cracks in her normally controlled demeanor to latch onto. Alright then, anger – let’s try that route. Before I spoke however, I cast out a bubble, enclosing the room in a thin veil of darkness, sealing us in so we could not be heard outside of this room.

Giving her a sardonic smile, I said with a touch of mocking jest, “Flirting and giggling with Tarquin did you no good, I take it?”

I saw the flash of anger in her eyes before she locked it down, her expression going bland as tossed a box that I had missed seeing in her hands onto the bed beside me. “You tell me.”

I froze for a second, my smile faltering as I looked down at the box. Had she… I sat up all the way and picked it up and pushed open the lid. Set into the dark blue velvet was a silver necklace with small black diamonds dangling from the chain – it was simple and elegant, and quite beautiful, though rather unusual for Summer Court style and coloring. It also, was not the Book.

No… but it meant that Tarquin had given her a gift. Anger and jealousy surged up through me – but I kept it under lock and key, not now, I couldn’t afford to let it out. I had to know the truth.

Looking up at her I arched a brow, “This isn’t the Book.”

Feyre didn’t even smirk, just shrugged her shoulders, “No, but it’s a beautiful gift.”

I had never personally given her a gift, though everything she wore was purchased by me in some capacity. I had bought the diadems for her directly, but never gave them to her myself; I had a different, specific piece of jewelry I wanted to give her first.

Smirking a little I said coolly, “You want me to buy you jewelry, Feyre, then say the word.” I saw her tense – no, Feyre was not someone won over by gems and jewelry, I knew that. “Though given your wardrobe, I thought you were aware that it was _all_ bought for you.”

I could tell then that she hadn’t realized that her attire was purchased solely for her. Did she think we just borrowed the clothing? From Mor perhaps? Studying her, I knew that was what she thought, or something similar. She hadn’t considered that any of it was purchased new for her, hadn’t believed herself worthy.

The barest hint of embarrassment flashed through her eyes, then disappeared. She deflected, “Tarquin is a good male – a good High Lord. You should just _ask_ him for the damned Book.”

Anger again – _he_ was a good male, a good High Lord. But I was not. No, I was the cruel sadistic bastard who had tortured her Under the Mountain.

I snapped the lid on the box shut and said a little harshly, “So he plies you with jewels and pours honey into your ear, and now you feel bad?”

There was a shift then, in Feyre – she was still pissed at me, but she reached out to me, not with hands but with… camaraderie. Trying to talk to me as a friend, as though attempting to get me to see, what? Reason?

“He wants your alliance – desperately. He wants to trust you, rely on you.”

My pounding heart froze for a minute, then picked up its pace. I stared at her – and I _had_ to know. Was she speaking up for Tarquin because he was who she wanted, or just because she honestly perceived him as trustworthy?

“Well,” I said with a touch of that anger, pushing her a little, “Cresseida is under the impression that her cousin is rather ambitious, so I’d be careful to read between his words.”

Her entire demeanor shifted again, her expression locking down as her body went rigid. “Oh? Did she tell you that before, during, or after you took her to bed?”

Mother above… I sat the box aside then stood, almost as though in a daze. “Is that why you wouldn’t look at me?” I asked quietly, studying her eyes, now shadowed with hurt. “Because you think I fucked her for information?”

Her hands clenched into fists, and she bit out sharply, “Information or your own pleasure, I don’t care.”

Lies. She was lying, but that meant…

I walked towards her slowly, giving her plenty of time to retreat, but she held her ground. Stopping in front of her with barely any space between us, I looked down into her beautiful, shadowed eyes, and asked quietly, in nearly a whisper, “Jealous, Feyre?”

Embarrassment touched her features briefly, then vanished as she retorted coldly, “If I’m jealous, then you’re jealous about Tarquin and his honey pouring.”

I flashed my teeth at her in frustration. Anger and jealousy pulsed through me, and despite my attempts to bury it, I was terribly afraid she could read it plainly on my face.

“Do you think I particularly like having to flirt with a lonely female to get information about her court, her High Lord?” I asked her harshly. “Do you think I feel good about myself, doing that? Do you think I enjoy doing it just so you have space to ply Tarquin with your smiles and pretty eyes, so we can get the Book and go home?”

Her lips twisted into a bitter smirk, “You seemed to enjoy yourself plenty last night.”

Damn this stubborn female! I let out a snarl this time, soft and vicious. “I didn’t take her to bed.” I stared hard into her eyes, willing her to believe me, to have just a little faith in me. “She wanted to, but I didn’t so much as kiss her. I took her out for a drink in the city, let her talk about her life, her pressures, and brought her back to her room, and went no farther than the door. I waited for you at breakfast, but you slept in. Or avoided me, apparently. And I tried to catch your eye this afternoon, but you were _so good_ at shutting me out completely.”

A look of shock flared in her eyes suddenly, then disappeared just as quickly as she closed back up and sneered at me, “Is that what got under your skin? That I shut you out, or that it was so easy for Tarquin to get in?”

My emotions were a chaotic mess, the realization that she had been jealous nearly overwhelming - the only thing that topped that was my own jealousy. Gritting my teeth, I hissed at her, “What got under my skin,” my breathing becoming a little ragged, “is that you _smiled_ at him.”

Her face went completely blank except for her eyes widening a little as she said softly, almost as though in disbelief, “You are jealous.”

_Yes_, I thought to myself, _I am jealous. And madly, desperately, hopelessly in love with you._

I was exhausted, body and soul, and aching in every part of me for her.

_Tell her_, the voice inside my head whispered, _tell her about the bond._

Mate. My Mate.

But this wasn’t the time, or the place to tell her – we had a job to do and Feyre had been doing her job splendidly, I was the one messing up – Amren had been right. If I told Feyre the truth now, I risked botching the entire thing. I had to… tell her something though, I owed her some small facet of the truth.

Shaking my head, I stepped around her and walked to the table against the wall just behind her, a decanter of amber liquid resting there and a few glasses. Picking up the decanter I poured a generous glass and knocked it back, before setting my glass down and bracing my hands on the table, closing my eyes.

“I heard what you told him,” I said to her quietly, feeling the rage and jealousy I had felt last night swirl up inside of me, my darkness curling up alongside it, and struggled to keep it contained inside. “That you thought it would be easy to fall in love with him. You meant it too.”

A moment of silence, then, “So?”

My head hung lower; tired, I was so damn tired, and empty.

“I was jealous – of that. That I’m not… that sort of person. For anyone.” I said, opening myself, baring the truth to her, not all of it but… enough. “The Summer Court has always been neutral; they only showed backbone during those years Under the Mountain. I spared Tarquin’s life because I’d heard how he wanted to even out the playing field between High Fae and lesser faeries. I’ve been trying to do that for years. Unsuccessfully, but… I spared him for that alone. And Tarquin, with his neutral court…” A shudder passed through me, it might have been a silent laugh, or perhaps a sob, I didn’t know, too caught up in opening myself to her, “He will never have to worry about someone walking away because the threat against their life, their children’s lives, will always be there. So yes, I was jealous of him – because it will always be easy for him. And he will never know what it is to look up at the night sky and wish.”

Silence.

It bore down on me, the weight of it, threatening to crush me beneath it.

_Feyre._

And then, beyond all hope, she was suddenly there beside me. I felt her body close to mine and opened my eyes to watch her. She did not look at me but picked up the decanter and poured herself a knuckles worth of the amber liquid before refilling my own glass. Lifting her glass, she clinked it against mine before finally looking up at me, and I saw her beautiful eyes, still dark, still shadowed, but kind, forgiving. Understanding.

“To the people who look at the stars and wish, Rhys.”

I swallowed, and without looking away from her gaze, stood straight and picked up my glass, clinking it against her own as I said softly, “To the stars who listen – and the dreams that are answered.”

\- - - ~*~ - - -

Dinner that night was a far quieter and intimate affair, held in the royal family’s private dining room, a sure sign that Tarquin was eager for an alliance. Feyre sat next to Tarquin again, and continued to charm him with smiles – it still bothered me, but not as much. There was a flow of communication between Feyre and myself that hadn’t been before; not in words, not even really in emotions… subtler, in the way she held her body or tilted her head, the slight reservation in her laugh or how she withheld touching him more than she absolutely had to. It didn’t appear to me that anyone else picked up on it, perhaps Amren did, she was always watching, always observing fae behavior as though it was rare and wondrous – which to her I suppose it was.

As for Cresseida, we were still flirting, and I was still more than willing to listen to her talk about anything, but it wasn’t nearly as bold as it had been the night before on the barge. I thought she would be put out by my slight withdrawal of affections, but she didn’t seem to mind. At one point she caught me looking at Feyre and that same look she had earlier in the council chambers, when it looked like she had figured something out, returned to her face. I studied that look on her face, and she gave me a playful grin before she continued on with what she had been talking about. Cresseida knew something, not all of what was between me and Feyre, but something and she chose to keep it a secret. Her gift to me perhaps; I was grateful for it.

“Will you join us in council tomorrow?” I heard Tarquin ask Feyre.

Shaking her head, Feyre replied with a touch of regret, “Likely not I’m afraid – it’s not really my place to be involved. Besides, I want to take this opportunity to explore your beautiful city. Being new to this world there is still so much I want to see.”

Tarquin smiled at her warmly and nodded, “I completely understand – I wish I could join you instead of sitting in a stuffy council chamber all day.”

Cresseida snorted lightly at that comment, but Tarquin ignored her.

Feyre smiled at him charmingly – the sight of it made my heart clench, oh what I would do to earn a smile like that. “Well maybe you can sneak out one day and give me a tour of something special.”

Cresseida leaned forward and said to Tarquin, “You could take her to some of the art galleries, since it seems the Night Court has a talent for art, perhaps she would enjoy touring them.”

I saw Feyre tense, pain swirling into her eyes for just a second, then her shoulders drew back – she was preparing herself to go, if she had to, if Tarquin took up the suggestion.

I swirled the wine in my goblet and took a sip, then said with a soft drawl, “Art galleries are fine and good, but I prefer to tour them on a second visit – I like to explore the city the first time around, take it all in with fresh eyes.”

Tarquin consider both our suggestions, then shrugged and grinned at Feyre, “If I manage to sneak out, I will let you pick – it would be my pleasure to escort you anywhere you choose.”

Cresseida shrugged and looked back to me, returning to her topic about some of the fruit groves that had been burned down and how they were working on restoring them. Feyre did not look at me, her attention entirely on Tarquin, but I could tell by the way her shoulders relaxed that she was grateful for my interference.

Another hour passed in similar light hearted conversation until it was finally decided that we should part for the evening. Varian and Cresseida left together, heading to their chambers, and Tarquin followed them shortly after. Left on our own, the three of us walked back to our guest quarters in silence, and once in the lounge, Amren bid us a good night and headed to her room. I walked Feyre to her door, and she paused in front of it, her hand resting on the handle, but she turned to look up at me.

“How much longer do you think we have?” She asked me quietly.

I studied her face and noted how tired she looked. “I don’t know for sure – Amren and I can draw this out another few days I think, but we’re running on limited time. Do you have any ideas where to look?”

She let out a breath and shook her head, “No, and I haven’t felt anything either. I guess I’ll just make my way around the city and see if anything pulls to me. Do you need me back here for anything specific during the day?”

“No, we’re eating lunch in the council chambers, so there is no reason for you to come back until dinner, unless you find something.” I paused, studying her for a moment then said, “Feyre if you find something, don’t try anything without letting one of us know. Please.”

Feyre furrowed her brows a little, considering my words, then nodded in agreement, “Alright.”

We both fell silent, considering each other, considering what had happened between us earlier in the day. I felt a tightness in my chest, a desire to reach out to her, to pull her into my arms and hold her tight.

“Feyre…” I said quietly, then fell silent, unsure of what to say or how to say it.

Her eyes darkened, waiting for me to continue, but when I didn’t, she twisted the knob on her door and pushed it open.

“Good night, Rhys.” Then she stepped inside and shut the door behind her, leaving me standing there, staring at her door.

I let out a long, low sigh and turned, retreating to my own bedroom and made ready for bed. Sinking down into the mattress, I stared up at the ceiling but it wasn’t too long before exhaustion caught up with me. Before I was completely asleep, on a star kissed breeze, her voice was the last thing I heard…

_To the people who look at the stars and wish…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you have a minute or two to leave a kudos or comment I would really appreciate it.
> 
> I am still relatively new to writing fan fiction and I would love any critiques you can throw my way, good or bad.
> 
> Thank you so much! - Otter


	4. X Never Marks the Spot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: If you have not read A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas I strongly suggest you go read it first - it's undoubtedly better written and what I have written will spoil the book for you.
> 
> I am re-writing all of ACOMAF from Rhysand's perspective, using all of the original characters/scenes/dialogue, and adding in new bits and bobs to flesh his story out more.
> 
> This Section:  
Ch. 1 - Rhysand, Feyre and Amren head to the Summer Court (New scenes)  
Ch. 2 - Dinner on the barge, and Rhysand spends time with Cresseida (New scenes)  
Ch. 3 - Rhysand and Tarquin bargain, then Rhysand has a private chat with Feyre (Several new scenes)  
Ch. 4 - Dinner with Tarquin and the location of the Book  
Ch. 5 - Stealing the Book (Several new scenes)  
Ch. 6 - Blood Rubies and nightmares (Several new scenes)  
Ch. 7 - Waiting for the Queens to respond (Several new scenes)  
CH. 8 - A/N: An apology and update on health and writing
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> *Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.

We were running out of time and despite Feyre’s best efforts, hours spent scouring the city, we were coming up short - the Book was nowhere to be found. Amren and I kept the council meetings going, we had been careful to keep a few things in reserve to use as needed in order to extend the negotiations. Varian’s constant questions about Hybern did the other half of our work for us, and I was mildly surprised at some of the questions he had, and suggestions he offered - they were well thought and I planned on sharing them with Cassian when we returned.

Every day Feyre would linger over her breakfast, watching as we left for the council chambers before she would ready herself and head into the city - trying not to appear too eager. The anxiety I had about her being alone in the city gnawed at me, and I cursed myself each time for not having brought Azriel - he could have easily tracked her through the shadows. Except that Azriel had other work I needed him to do, and Amren’s presence kept the Summer Court just slightly off balance - they didn’t want to look too closely at her, or us for that matter, afraid of what she might do with her mysterious powers.

The only thing that kept me mildly sane during the day, while Feyre was down in the city, was that since we had talked the bond between us was flowing… smoother. Instead of random jolts of emotions when she was stressed or angry or scared, and then nothing the rest of the time, her emotions now came to me steadily, like a slow moving, shallow river. Her emotions weren’t overwhelming, almost muted in a way, as though she still resisted feeling anything good, as though still trying to deny herself happiness. She couldn’t completely cut out those good emotions however, and it was intoxicating to feel them most of the time now. There were moments when all I wanted to do was sink back in my chair, close my eyes and drink her in - alive and living, experiencing my world… her world. In those moments, Amren would look at me sharply and that look would remind me that we still had a game to play.

However it was at dinner the third night that Feyre put a trump card into play - and without letting Amren or I know she was going to do it.

Feyre had been telling all of us about some of the things she had seen and experienced in the city - and I was shocked at first to see how Tarquin and Cresseida, and even Varian, seemed to hang on her every word. I realized then that they did not walk the city streets often, Cresseida did more than the others, but even she had limited contact. It was not like Velaris, where my primary home was not a palace on a hill, but a town house among the rest, where I dined frequently among my subjects, and shopped personally in the Palace markets - where many of my people knew me by name and were happy to interact with me on a personal level.

Of course - I did not act that freely in Hewn city, but then again, I avoided Hewn city as much as possible and there was little there among the rot and ruin to interest me.

I craved the sky and the vibrant life that was Velaris.

“You ate it right there?” Tarquin asked with visible shock and delight.

I had my elbow resting on the arm of my chair and my chin resting on my fist as I listened to Feyre with just as much enjoyment as the rest. She had been telling him about the fish markets, and how she had purchased a fresh fish straight from a boat that had just come into dock. I had felt her emotions through out the day, and to hear what had brought those emotions on now was like watching a sunrise after having read about it - radiant.

Feyre’s eyes twinkled with amusement as she shrugged, “They fried it with the other fishermen’s lunches. Didn’t charge me extra for it.”

Tarquin let out a hearty laugh, leaning back in his chair comfortably, “I can’t say I’ve ever done that - sailor or no.”

“You should, it was delicious,” Feyre said as she arched a brow at him in mock admonishment, something which made Tarquin grin.

Tarquin had remained drawn to Feyre, and tonight she was playing even further on his very obvious attraction. Honestly, she played the game like a born master, and the pride I felt towards her was near equal to the love burning inside of me.

Feyre had decided to wear the silver and black diamond necklace Tarquin had given to her during her tour of the treasuries, only it and no other accessories. To further showcase the necklace, Feyre wore a long gown of soft dove gray, and while vibrant colors made her appear lively and young, I realized that darker, more muted colors, such as the gray of her dress, did something else entirely. They removed the lie of the world, the story others wrote about her, for her, and revealed the truth of her soul - she was not some innocent, naive girl, new to this world and this life. Feyre was infinite, and she was a warrior, a survivor - a conquerer. Her scars did no diminish her soul, they defined it. Muted colors revealed this truth, and they made her more breathtakingly radiant than any color ever could - because her soul already shone bright with color, more beautiful than any sun rise or night sky. To pair her soul with colorful garb was sheer mockery.

Honestly, it surprised me that no one else saw the truth of this, though I suspected Tarquin saw a glimmer of it. I came to realize that Tarquin had a unique view of the world, he had seen the truth of my sacrifice Under the Mountain, and he now saw the brilliance of Feyre’s soul - it both pleased me, and filled me with the same dread I had earlier, that she might want him more than me. My only saving grace was the fact that I did not feel any such thoughts from her, and could see how she did not touch him any more intimately than was necessary.

While Tarquin had been pleased to see her wearing the necklace, Varian had choked when he realized the gift his High Lord had given her. Cresseida had been kind, in a backwards manner, telling Feyre it suited her better than it did the Summer Court - a comment that had nearly made me choke with laughter. Ah Cresseida, clever and quick witted, and rare to give a compliment when there was nothing in it for her or her people. Were she not so tied to her people I might have thought to steal her away for my court, the mayhem she would have wrought in Hewn city alone would have kept me jovial for centuries to come.

Still grinning, Tarquin arched a brow at Feyre. “Well, maybe I’ll go tomorrow. If you’ll join me.”

Feyre grinned in response, but I could see the way it didn’t entirely reach her eyes, and though I still wished she would smile at me, I found some comfort that she was not giving all of her smiles to Tarquin - not entirely.

“I’d like that,” she said with enthusiasm. “Perhaps we could go for a walk in the morning down the causeway when the tide is out. There’s that little building along the way - it looks fascinating.” It was the subtle shift in the flow of Feyre’s emotions that clued me in at first, a ripple in the smooth surface, as though she tossed a rock into calm waters.

I watched Tarquin tense subtly, and my heart sped slightly as I barely dared to hope.

“I figure since I’ve seen most of the city now,” Feyre continued innocently after taking a sip of her wine, “I could see it on my way to visit some of the mainland, too.”

I knew Feyre had figured it out as soon as Tarquin glanced towards Cresseida - she had done it, all on her own - Feyre had found the Book. Excitement pulsed through me, but I kept my mask solidly in place, a pleasant smirk on my face as I sipped my wine.

There was new, shadowed wariness in Tarquin’s gaze as he returned his attention to Feyre and responded blandly. “It’s a temple ruin. Just mud and seaweed at this point. We’ve been meaning to repair for years.”

Stretching my mind out, I began to brush my claws delicately across their minds, finding a firm shield around Tarquin’s thoughts, but less substantial shields around Cresseida and Varian. I would deal with them first then, convince their minds that Feyre’s questions were truly innocent.

_Back off now Feyre…_ I thought to myself as I began to work, quickly bypassing their very simple shields, while hoping she would not push the matter. I should have known my concerns were entirely unwarranted - Feyre was a natural at this.

Wrinkling her nose in apparent distaste. “Maybe we’ll take the bridge then. I’ve had enough of mud for a while.”

_Good girl…_ I thought, using her words as the ground work for the lie I built in Cresseida and Varian’s minds.

_She’s sweet, and innocent, and naive. So new to this life and curious. She doesn’t mean any harm. She’s so naive and young._

I built the lie up until it was a truth inside of their minds, coloring it to match the rest of their individual thoughts, then set it in place and withdrew from their minds. I saw the suspicion in their eyes ease, their muscles relaxing, and I turned my attention to Tarquin. The shields of a High Lord were typically stronger, thanks to their sheer power alone, and I expected to have to expend some effort to work past Tarquin’s, having already seen a taste of the power at his command. Except that when I reached for his mind, instead of feeling Tarquin’s energy signature alone, I felt Feyre’s intermingled with his. At first I was so shocked that I wasn’t sure how to react, but one glance at her face, at the concentration in her eyes, I realized that she was doing to Tarquin what I had done to Varian and Cresseida. Extending out a bit farther, I carefully latched a claw of thought onto Feyre, so delicately that she likely would not feel me, and followed her thread of thought in Tarquin’s mind, watching her work.

_Unbelievable…_

Feyre had used the spark of power she had inherited from Tarquin to meld herself into his shields, turning herself into sea and sky and sun, until the shield had accepted her as part of it, letting her into his thoughts beyond. I watched as she spun her lies the way I had spun mine, but these she flavored with the salt of the sea and the cry of seagulls, with brine and sand, until the lies became truth, his truth. And then just as carefully I watched as she slipped back out of his mind, and I with her, and watched as his shield hardened behind us with nary a ripple of proof that she had ever been there at all.

I was floored.

Feyre had just done mind work that took many daemati centuries to completely master, but more than that, she had used her unique power in a way I hadn’t even thought to teach her. Yes, in a way she had done it before with me, but that had been pure instinct and completely outside of her control. This however… this was entirely conscious, and executed so flawlessly that for a brief moment I was a little frightened.

And a lot proud.

My Feyre.

Tossing a glance to Amren, I saw her raise a brow in silent question, and gave her a nearly imperceptible shake of the head.

_Later,_ I thought, _we will discuss this later._

Amren seemed to understand the look in my eyes, and dropped it, shifting her bored gaze to look out the windows once again.

Tarquin once again smiled at Feyre, warm and kind, all of the tension eased from his shoulders. He was completely oblivious to Feyre’s intrusion to his thoughts. “We’ll meet after breakfast. Unless Rhysand wants me for more meetings.”

Neither Cresseida or Varian even glanced towards him as I waved a hand lazily. “By all means, Tarquin,” I said smoothly, “spend the day with my Lady.”

Tarquin nodded his thanks to me, his gaze never leaving Feyre’s face which remained a mask of delighted anticipation, but along the bond I felt her emotions beginning to roil. Horror washed down the bond as she began to realize the enormity of what she had done to Tarquin - and the fear I’d had earlier at her powers and natural skill eased. I knew she was a good person, knew it in my core, but power had a way of corrupting if a person chose to forget their faemanity. Feyre had chosen to remember it, and the horror she felt was the result of that. It wasn’t pleasant but it was a relief to know she felt it all the same.

“Tell me what there is to see on the mainland,” I heard Feyre ask Tarquin, while I turned my attention to Varian.

“Varian, you mentioned having another possible way of spying on Hybern - could you expand on that?”

Varian shifted his attention from Amren to look at me, considering me for a moment, then shrugged. “There is a small group of sea-fairing traders that I know have trade with Hybern. Not much of course, as Hybern is mostly insular, but some of the small outlying islands around Hybern have dealings with them. It might be possible to buy information.”

Arching a brow, I leaned back and considered this new knowledge. “That is very interesting. You consider them trustworthy?”

Varian barked a short laugh and Cresseida smirked, having kept her focus on our conversation as she sipped her wine.

“Hardly, I used the term ‘traders’ very loosely - many are cut throats and thieves, just barely a step above full blown pirates.” He shrugged again and Amren turned her gaze to study him as he continued. “Most of them have little to lose if Hybern wins, they don’t call any Court home and they’re always on the move, so it doesn’t matter to them who is King or High Lord. That being said however, some of them do have family who live on land, some of them are even recent refugees from Amarantha’s attacks and would like revenge for what happened.”

I nodded, understanding. “So it might be possible to get some valuable information, but it’s equally as likely to get nothing useful.”

Varian nodded, and Cresseida spoke up then. “They also aren’t likely to sell you any information cheaply, and they will demand payment upfront.”

Amren smirked at her comment, arching a brow at me.

Chuckling a little, I nodded again, “Of course. Well, if you have a contact among them who would be willing to discuss terms, I would be interested in setting up a meeting.”

Varian gave me a quick nod, promising he would get a name for me by the next day, though I wasn’t sure we would still be here by then. Cauldron willing, we would have the Book in the next day or two, and could head home, without Tarquin being the wiser to our theft.

Another hour passed in pleasant conversation before we broke up for the evening, with Tarquin escorting Feyre back to our quarters while they finalized their plans for the next day. I followed along behind them a few minutes after they left, bidding Cresseida a good night, while Amren remained at the table beside Varian, though they continued not to speak to each other. That was trouble I was sure I didn’t want to be involved in.

Reaching our guest quarters, I found the lounge empty and most of the lights dimmed. Making my way to Feyre’s door, I knocked and waited until I heard her bade me enter. Stepping inside, I shut the door behind me and leaned back against it as I took her in, sitting on the bed. Her shoulders were sagged and her eyes dark with guilt that threatened to overwhelm her. I wanted to gather her up in my arms, wanted to kiss the furrow between her brows to ease it and take all of her pain and guilt away and stow it away inside of myself.

Feyre had made this choice though, a brave choice, to sacrifice another piece of her soul when she entered Tarquin’s mind to alter his thoughts. She now had to carry this guilt, and I would not sully her sacrifice with platitudes.

Folding my arms across my chest, I smirked at her a little instead. “What a fast learner you are. It takes most daemati years to master that sort of infiltration.”

The guilt flared darker on her face, and I watched as she clenched her hands into fists. “You knew - that I did it?”

I knew then for certain that she hadn’t felt me hook onto her in order to see what she was doing, and I knew she had hoped no one would realize that she had altered his thoughts. I understood her guilt and shame all too well, but couldn’t help the pride still bubbling inside of me for what she had done.

Giving her a short nod I said, “And what expert work you did, using the essence of _him_ to trick his shields, to get past them… Clever lady.”

And it had been clever, brilliant really - and she had figured it out all on her own.

“He’ll never forgive me,” she whispered, sorrow etched in every word.

Jealousy flashed through me for a moment, but I exhaled a quiet breath and dismissed it. Now was not the time.

“He’ll never know.” I told her honestly, though I knew how little those words would actually ease her guilt. “You get used to it. The sense that you’re crossing a boundary, that you’re violating them.” Yes, and the day I had become used to it, I had felt a portion of my soul splinter and shatter - I would never wish that for her. And yet… I would not deny her the right to choose, it would always be her choice. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t particularly enjoy convincing Varian and Cresseida to find other matters more interesting.”

Her gaze dropped to the floor, the heaviness of the guilt weighing on her still.

_Ah Feyre_… the things she had suffered, and still suffered through, hurt me just as deeply. If only she knew that she need not suffer these things alone, that I would shoulder the burden with her willingly, gladly. All I could offer her instead was a reminder that these choices were not made in vain, that there was value to this pain she carried as a result.

“If you hadn’t taken care of Tarquin,” I told her quietly, “the odds are we’d be knee-deep in shit right now.”

Feyre let out a long breath before she said, “It was my fault, anyways - I was the one who asked about the temple. I was only cleaning up my own mess.” A slow shake of her head as she continued, “It doesn’t feel right.”

“It never does. Or it shouldn’t,” I told her honestly. “Far too many daemati lose that sense. But here - tonight… the benefits outweighed the costs.”

Lifting her head, Feyre pinned me against the door with her penetrating gaze.

“Is that also what you told yourself when you went into my mind? What was the benefit then?”

Pain flashed through my body, followed swiftly by guilt as I held her gaze, refusing to look away. She had a right to her anger and accusations - because I had taken liberty with her thoughts, as well intentioned as my actions had been, they were unforgivable. I would carry that burden on my soul for the rest of my existence.

Pushing off the door I walked towards her, stopping just in front of her, my hands aching to reach out and touch her. I slipped them into my pockets instead and said softly, “There are parts of your mind I left undisturbed, things that belong solely to you, and always will. And as for the rest…” Clenching my jaw, I thought back to when she had been at the Spring Court, at those moments when the bond had been silent, when I had felt nothing from her at all. The silence had nearly destroyed me, and out of desperation I had reached out for her mind - it had been an invasion, but I had needed proof she was still alive, that she was still Feyre. “You scared the shit out of me for a long while, Feyre. Checking in that way… I couldn’t very well stroll into the Spring Court and ask how you were doing, could I?” Holding her gaze, I saw something glimmer there in her eyes… forgiveness. And anger. Yet somehow I knew that anger was not directed at me, but rather at Tamlin, at what had been done to her.

I might have told her more, but I heard the door to the lounge open, and heard footsteps making their way towards Feyre’s door.

“I’ll explain the rest some other time.” I said quietly.

Feyre’s door opened and I finally lifted my gaze from her to look up as Amren entered the room without knocking, shutting the door behind her and crossing over to plop down on the bed beside Feyre. She flicked a bubble of power around the room, shielding us, then said by way of greeting, “It seems like a stupid place to hide a book.”

Letting out a low laugh, I turned away from them both and walked over to the stool in front of the vanity and took a seat. “And the last place one would look,” I said with a slight smirk. “They could spell it easily enough against wet and decay. A place only visible for brief moments through the day - when the land around it is exposed for all to see? You could not ask for a better place. We have the eyes of thousands watching us.”

Amren crossed her arms in front of her while Feyre kept her gaze on me, before she asked, “So how do we get in?”

Bracing my forearms on my thighs, I looked down at the floor, considering our options. “It’s likely warded against winnowing. I won’t risk tripping any alarms by trying. So we go in at night, the old-fashioned way.” Looking back at them again I saw Feyre arch her brow at me with skepticism. Smirking a little, I explained with a shrug, “I can carry you both, then keep watch.”

Amren let out a snort. “Such gallantry, to do the easy part, then leave us helpless females to dig through mud and seaweed.”

The corner of Feyre’s mouth twitched with amusement and I warmed a little at the sight. Shaking my head at Amren I said, “Someone needs to be circling high enough to see anyone approaching - or sounding the alarm.” Amren didn’t look convinced and I arched a brow, “And masking you from sight.”

Amren was capable of masking, but I could do it on a much larger scale than she could - and I could do it directly into their minds, where as her masking would have an energy signature which could be tracked.

Amren let out a sigh of acquiescence.

Feyre frowned though, a touch of doubt creeping into her eyes. "The locks respond to his touch; let’s hope they respond to mine.”

Arching a brow, Amren asked the important question, “When do we move?”

I began to answer but it was Feyre who responded, her voice calm and sure. “Tomorrow night,” she said. “We note the guard’s rotations tonight at low tide - figure out where the watchers are. Who we might need to take out before we make our move.”

She had it in her, the way of a leader - the voice of command. Willing to get her hands dirty, to take on the difficult task, but also prepared to dictate the actions of her subjects when necessary - and ready to accept the weight of responsibility of such power. I could see it in her, clear as the night sky, and it resonated deeply within me.

Given the chance, I would crown her my Queen, my High Lady - but she needed no crown to take on the mantle of leadership, she bore it already.

I gave her a small smile, “You think like an Illyrian.”

Amren barked a laugh, “I believe that is supposed to be a compliment.”

Letting out a snort, I shook my head once then reached my mind out for Nuala and Cerridwen who had come with us. I found their minds quickly and they lowered their shields to me when they felt my talons brush against them.

_High Lord?_ I heard their mental voices whisper in tandem, shadowy and a touch ethereal.

Showing them our plans, I explained what I needed them to do.

_Scout the palace, note the rotation of the guards and locate any hidden watchers._

They agreed and I pulled my thoughts away from them while I begin to summon my darkness up, slow and steady.

“Nuala and Cerridwen are already on the move inside the castle. I’ll take to the skies. The two of you should go for a midnight walk - considering how hot it is.”

Giving them a playful wink, I stood and wrapped myself in darkness, winnowing high into the skies above Adriata before I released the darkness around my wings and spread them wide, catching the wind. I was not Azriel, I could not hear shadows the way he could - they did not whisper the truth of the world to me consistently, but darkness was my gift, and I could command it to speak to me at will. Soaring through the skies, I stretched my darkness out over Adriata, letting my power seep through the palace, along the long hallways, and out along the parapets, drinking in the information it fed me.

This would be a long night, circling the palace as I tracked patrols and shift changes while picking up any other little details. I could think of far better ways to spend an evening, but any night spent among the stars with my wings spread wide was infinitely better than even my least nightmare.

Though in all honesty, all I would need for this night to surpass my greatest dreams would be to have Feyre in my arms.

Such simple dreams.

These were the things that built kingdoms and wrecked empires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you have a minute or two to leave a kudos or comment I would really appreciate it.
> 
> I am still relatively new to writing fan fiction and I would love any critiques you can throw my way, good or bad.
> 
> Thank you so much! - Otter
> 
> P.S. Indiana Jones for the chapter title win!


	5. The Water Temple Sucks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: If you have not read A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas I strongly suggest you go read it first - it's undoubtedly better written and what I have written will spoil the book for you.
> 
> I am re-writing all of ACOMAF from Rhysand's perspective, using all of the original characters/scenes/dialogue, and adding in new bits and bobs to flesh his story out more.
> 
> This Section:  
Ch. 1 - Rhysand, Feyre and Amren head to the Summer Court (New scenes)  
Ch. 2 - Dinner on the barge, and Rhysand spends time with Cresseida (New scenes)  
Ch. 3 - Rhysand and Tarquin bargain, then Rhysand has a private chat with Feyre (Several new scenes)  
Ch. 4 - Dinner with Tarquin and the location of the Book  
Ch. 5 - Stealing the Book (Several new scenes)  
Ch. 6 - Blood Rubies and nightmares (Several new scenes)  
Ch. 7 - Waiting for the Queens to respond (Several new scenes)  
CH. 8 - A/N: An apology and update on health and writing
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> I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> *Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.

The following day was torture.

Feyre and Amren made it into their beds hours before I did, though I had a sneaking suspicion they didn’t get much rest either. The sun was beginning to crest the mountains in the east when I finally winnowed into my chambers and collapsed on my bed. I managed an hour or two of restless sleep when a persistent knocking on my door woke me.

Groaning softly, I dragged myself out of bed and walked to the door, yanking it open to find Feyre standing on the other side, dressed for the day, a somber glint in her eyes. That is, until she took in my disheveled state - hair a mess, still dressed in my clothes from the day before which were askew and wrinkled - and a corner of her mouth twitched. I realized it was probably the least composed she had ever seen me and it made me want to chuckle, despite my exhaustion.

“Yes, Feyre darling?” I asked with a drawl.

Her eyes darkened at my simple question, all amusement draining from her face. “I am supposed to meet Tarquin in an hour. Is there anything I should know or do while we are out?”

I could see the guilt pulsing with every beat of her heart, but resolve was etched on the planes of her face and I knew she would not falter. Reaching up I ran a hand through my tangled hair and let out a slow breath.

“No, Amren and I will compile all of our information while you are gone so we have a solid plan in place when you return. Don’t worry about pressing him for information, we will go on what we have already - you did good work in his mind, but I would prefer you didn’t have to do it again.”

Feyre’s shoulders slumped with relief at my words and she gave me a quick nod. “Alright.” There was a subtle note of hesitation in her voice however and I studied her face for a moment.

“Do you…” I paused, then continued, “Would you like one of us to accompany you today?”

I watched her swallow then straighten her back, lifting her chin as she said calmly, “No, this is my job, I can do it.”

I wasn’t sure it was possible that I could love her more than I already did, but there it was, my love for her swelled and overflowed through me, all tangled up with pride. It was obvious that guilt and anxiety were weighing heavily on her, and she did not want to spend all day alone with a male she was about to rob - especially not a male who had been kind and generous to her. She would do it however, she would play the game, she would be the distraction we needed to set everything in place, and I would not hold her back. It was her choice, always her choice, and I trusted my Mate to do the job set before her.

I gave her a vague smile and asked quietly, “Have you eaten?” Feyre shook her head.

Pushing my door open fully, I gestured for her to lead the way. She hesitated for only a moment, before turning and crossing the smooth sandstone tiles over to the dining table laden with our breakfast. I followed behind her, taking the moment to drink in the sight of her, dressed in a flowing gown of stormy blue, with lace the color of sea foam edging the short sleeves and around the low cut square back, tapering off around her neck. A thin silver belt wrapped high around her waist with tiny pearls were sewn into it. Her hair was pulled up into an elegant bun, with tendrils of her golden brown hair tumbling down around her face, curling delicately around her neck.

My fingers itched to reach out twirl the curls around them, to sink my fingers into the depths of her bun and unpin it, to feel the weight of her hair tumble over my skin… I swallowed and stepped slightly in front of her, only to pull out a chair for her. She paused, arching a brow at me, but didn’t argue as she sat, letting me push the chair in for her. I took the seat next to her, though it denied me full access to her face, I found myself craving the feel of her body close to mine.

“I’m not sure that I’m hungry,” she murmured quietly.

Glancing at her, I understood, but pushed gently, “You should eat a little bit.” At her continued hesitation I said instead, “At least some tea, perhaps?”

When she finally nodded her agreement I reached for the teapot, pouring two cups, adding milk to hers, and a cube of sugar to my own. Setting her cup of tea in front of her, I watched her lift it and take a fortifying sip. We sat in companionable silence, and I led by example by putting some food on my plate and taking a few bites. After a few minutes she mimicked me and spooned a little fruit onto her plate.

“I’m surprised Amren isn’t up yet,” she said, breaking the extended silence.

Leaning back in my seat, I was a little surprised as well, and glanced towards Amren’s door.

“Hmm, indeed. Well, I’m sure she will be out soon.”

Glancing back towards Feyre, I watched her cut a slice of peach in half and lift it to her mouth, chewing, and then running her tongue across her bottom lip. My mouth went dry, imagining what it would be like to do that myself, imagining the taste of her lips, sweetened by peach… She must have felt me staring at her, because she turned her head and met my gaze, and whatever she read there made her cheeks flush faintly.

My body went hot and tight, and without conscious thought I began to lean towards her - but froze when I heard a door click open somewhere behind us. Feyre looked away quickly, and I cursed the Cauldron as I twisted in my chair to look over my shoulder as Amren came out of her chambers and crossed the room to join us. The faint smirk on her lips told me that Amren had guessed my intentions, and I glared at her slightly.

Amren stepped around the table, and dropped into a chair opposite of us with her usual grace. “Good morning,” she said, her voice thick with amusement.

“Good morning,” I replied, almost growling at her, and her smirk grew more pronounced.

Feyre shifted in her seat, leaning away from me slightly as she glanced at Amren, then back at her plate.

Letting out a long sigh, I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms over my chest. “How was your stroll last night?”

“Enlightening,” Amren responded cooly, her liquid silver eyes still dancing with wry amusement.

A knock at the door interrupted us again as a servant entered and bowed.

“Forgive my intrusion, but the High Lord sends his invitation for Lady Feyre to join him.”

I felt Feyre tense subtly beside me before she sat her fork down, picked up her napkin to wipe her mouth then stood and gave Amren and I a small nod.

“I will see you at dinner,” she said quietly, and I longed to reach out and take her hand in mine, to squeeze it encouragingly.

Instead I merely gave her a smirk. “Enjoy yourself.”

She scowled at me slightly before turning with a swirl of skirts and left the room, following the servant, the door swinging closed behind her.

Yes, today would be torture - in more ways than one.

\- - - ~ *~ - - -

After a bath and a change of clothing, I was relatively refreshed, but no less agitated as Amren joined me in my room. Summoning Nuala and Cerridwen to join us, we sealed the room in a bubble of power to keep our voices, and intentions, private. With chairs purloined from the lounge, we all sat in a ragged circle in the center of my generous chamber.

“Well then,” I began after every one was settled, “our initial plan was for Amren and Feyre to retrieve the book while I fly surveillance above. Did any of you find a reason why this plan will no longer work?”

Glancing around at the three women, Nuala sat forward on her chair. “We didn’t find anything that would change your plan my Lord.” Cerridwen nodded in silent agreement with her sister.

Nodding once, I glanced towards Amren and raised my brow in silent question. Her silver eyes considered me before she shrugged her thin shoulders. “I don’t foresee there being a problem.”

Leaning back, I gave her a decisive nod before returning my attention to the twins. “I want you two to remain hidden on the walls and keep an eye on the ground. However, if anything goes wrong, you are not to engage.”

Nuala and Cerridwen shared a brief gaze before Cerridwen spoke up. “My Lord, we’re more than capable-”

I raised a hand, interrupting her. “I know how formidable you are Cerridwen, both of you, but I want to limit the potential amount of retribution. It’s politics; I was permitted to bring two attendees, which everyone assumed would be formidable - politics says that they would not expect our servants to be just as formidable. However, if everything goes to hell, and they had solid proof that I brought not just two dangerous allies, but four, well, the response towards our actions tonight could increase dramatically.”

Amren picked idly at a thread on her pants, “Besides, the two of you are one of our best kept secrets - so long as no one else knows how talented you actually are, then they will never question your attending the High Lord and his party. You’re a wild card best kept in reserve until there are no other options.”

The twins were not overly found of Amren, and the tense set of their shoulders spoke to this, but they nodded their understanding and agreement to both of us.

“I will inform you as soon as I’m sure we have the Book. However, if everything goes to absolute hell before then, I want you to return immediately to Velaris and inform the rest of the inner circle. I will contact them if we need aid, they will wait for my word, but you will be their advanced warning in case there is trouble.”

“As you wish my Lord,” Nuala said simply.

“Alright, if you all will allow me into your minds, let me see what watchers you found and the movement patterns of the guards.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I reached out to the twin’s minds simultaneously. They were shielded, though not by an adamant wall, but rather their minds were hidden deep in an inky blackness that a person could easily become lost in. Brute force would not lend well to shattering their defenses, in fact they had traps in place for such attacks, and subtly was moot if one could not discern which direction to head; which perhaps made their minds some of the best protected in my circle of trusted spies. As I approached their minds they sent the darkness scattering and brought forward their memories of the watchers and guards, letting me examine each memory minutely. Finally satisfied with the information I had absorbed, I sent a wordless thanks to both of them, and paused for a moment to watch the inky black shield swirl and crash back into place around their thoughts - it was beautiful and a little disturbing, and I couldn’t help but be fascinated by it.

A subtle cough in the room made me blink and refocus my attention on Amren, who arched a sardonic brow at me.

“At this pace, we’ll be here another week.”

I rolled my eyes at her, then nodded my thanks to the twins once again. “Do you have everything in hand for a quick departure?”

“Just about my Lord,” Nuala responded.

Cerridwen spoke up right after, “We just need to set out dinner outfits.”

Giving them both a smile, I nodded, “Please see to that, I’ll let you know if there are any changes to the plan.”

They both bowed their heads, then stood, drifting through the wall into Feyre’s room to set out everything for her.

Turning my attention back to Amren, she quirked a brow at me. “Ready?”

I gave her a nod and reached out to her mind. Amren’s mind was… terrifying. Beautiful, in every definable way, but still terrifying. She did not have a solid wall in place either, not like I did, nor did she have the inky blackness of the twins. No, Amren had fire, brilliant, burning tendrils of fire that curled and enveloped her mind in a protective barrier - but unlike the fire of Autumn Court, this fire was silver-white, and about a thousand times more powerful and deadly.

Every fiber of my being warned me against approaching that fire, it sent my heart into a near panic as I brushed a midnight claw through the very outer edges of the flame, announcing my presence. I had never been in Amren’s mind, she never let anyone in, though I had asked her why once.

_“Because I will not have your death on my conscious unnecessarily, Rhysand.” _Was all she would ever explain.

It had been enough to ensure that I never tried to break in on my own - not that I ever would with my friends, not if I could help it.

Recognizing my attendance on her, Amren spun a thread of silver flame out from the barrier around her mind and coiled it around my outstretched claw, and only through that minute level of contact did she share with me everything she had seen the night previous during her stroll with Feyre. The level of detail in her memories always astounded me, it wasn’t just sight and sound that most people could remember and pass on, she could also remember scent and taste accurately - likely due to her essentially being a predator. There were other fae that could also remember scent and taste though, so it wasn’t entirely rare. What made her attention to detail truly unique was her ability to sense power, both naturally in the world and in the people around her. Amren understood power in a way no one else did, and could even sometimes manipulate the eddies of power in truly frightening ways. As her memories passed over guards and hidden watchers, she exposed their levels of power as well, stripping them nearly bare with all her other senses regarding them as well, it was… disturbing. Honestly, I could read a fae’s mind and find out much the same information, but the way Amren saw each of us, it was like she was reading something deeper than our minds, like she was reading into our souls.

I felt a shiver of trepidation race down my spine, the way it always did when Amren and I did this. I trusted Amren implicitly, but damn if she didn’t scare me sometimes. Amren sensed that subtle fear in me and I felt her amusement dancing amongst her flames, a ripple of laughter echoing down the contact we shared.

_It’s comforting to know, that while you might be an idiot in some situations, your basic survival instincts haven’t abandoned you entirely,_ Amren teased me.

I snorted in response and signaled that I had absorbed all of her information. Her flames untwined around me and drew back, releasing me as we both coiled into ourselves. Opening my eyes I smirked at her slightly, “Only certain situations?”

Amren let out a short laugh, “Yes, well, I was being generous. Now, did the twins show you anything concerning?”

Smiling slightly I reached up to run a hand through my hair, letting out a breath as I reviewed all of the information I had now. “No, I think our plan will work, barring a total disaster of course.”

Shifting my position, I glanced towards the windows and gauged the position of the sun and grimaced a little - it was still early in the day, we had hours yet to wait. My thoughts shifted to Feyre, drawn to her like a moth to a flame, I wondered where she might be now, wondered what Tarquin might be showing her, telling her…

Gritting my teeth a little, I gripped the arms of my chair firmly, nails digging into the wood as a wave of jealousy washed through me. Closing my eyes, I forced myself to calm down and exhaled, relaxing my grip on the chair, then leaned back and opened my eyes to see Amren watching me, one brow arched.

“Don’t say it,” I said simply, standing and walking over to the windows, staring out at the open expanse of water. “I’m going to try and get some rest before tonight, perhaps you ought do the same.” My words a clear dismissal, if not an outright lie - I doubted I would be able to rest at all, knowing my Mate was spending the day with another male, flirting and distracting him. The jealousy was thick on my tongue and coiled tightly around my lungs, making it difficult to breathe.

I heard Amren stand and walk to the door of my room, opening it, but before she left I heard her say quietly, “Don’t be more of an idiot than is absolutely necessary Rhysand.”

A corner of my mouth curled up in a vague smile as the door clicked shut behind her. Ah Amren… never one to mince words or harsh truths. With a twist of my magic I dismissed the bubble shield around my room, absorbing the power back inside of myself, feeling briefly reenergized by its return, but it quickly faded. I was tired, the couple hours of stolen sleep did little to beat back exhaustion draping heavily on my shoulders, but the thoughts racing through my mind would never let me sleep, I knew that.

Sighing softly, I turned from the sight of the ocean and walked to the bed, sitting on the side of the mattress and then leaned back onto the luxurious sheets. If I could not sleep at least I could try and rest my weary body, there might be fighting this night and I needed to be ready for it - more than my life might depend on my reactions.

Closing my eyes I tried to direct my mind to something soothing, and found my thoughts drifting to the morning after I met Feyre’s sisters, when I woke to watch Feyre asleep in bed. She had slept so peacefully, all of her defenses had been down, her body relaxed and breathing slowly, her hair strewn wildly across the pillows, pink lips parted sweetly… She looked so young when she slept, unburdened with memories of starvation, torture and death, so beautiful and free. Despite all of my concerns and exhaustion, I found myself smiling, and imagining what she would feel like in my arms, her face pressed against my chest, feeling her lips against my skin, breathing in the scent of her hair as it spread across my arm…

And somewhere in the space between laying down and an hour or two before dinner, I drifted asleep to thoughts of Feyre in my arms.

\- - - ~*~ - - -

“I regret that we only journeyed into the city that first night,” Cresseida said quietly to me at the dinner table.

We had all finished with our meal an our or two ago and had been lingering over glasses of chilled wine. I had already informed Tarquin that we would be departing tomorrow, so tonight would be our last chance to enjoy each others company this informally and it seemed Tarquin and his cousin’s were loathe to call an end to the evening.

Truthfully, so was I, over the last few days I had truly come to like Tarquin and honestly wanted to consider him a friend. I still wasn’t overly fond of Varian, but my opinion of Cresseida had improved, especially since it appeared that she had not shared her observations with Tarquin - though I doubted our budding friendship would last the night if we failed to keep our robbery silent.

Smiling at Cresseida with honest warmth, I agreed in turn, “I regret seeing so little of your city as well, though I have seen it in the past, I would have liked to see more of your efforts to rebuild.”

Cresseida offered me a playful smirk, “Yes, well, surely your Ambassador’s reports will paint a colorful portrait of our city.”

I froze for a second, staring at Cresseida, at her choice of words, worrying that they were a message, possibly a warning. Her teal blue eyes flashed with humor and she let out a laugh, taking a sip of her wine before grinning at me.

Realizing she was teasing me, I shook my head once and smirked at her as I responded honestly, “Ah my dear Cresseida, were you not so loyal to your High Lord, I would try to steal you away.”

Cresseida let loose another peal of playful laughter, her eyes bright with amusement, and I did not fail to notice Varian’s shocked look or Tarquin’s quiet pleasure at the sight of her joy. Amren merely smirked at the two of us and Feyre… Feyre arched a brow at me, before taking a sip of her wine - and I knew that while she had no idea what had happened between Cresseida and myself to make her laugh, she was not jealous as she had been before. I had earned enough of her trust for that and it warmed something inside of me, bringing me a measure of peace I had never felt before.

Winking at me, Cresseida soon abandoned my company in order to speak with her brother. I once again rejoined the conversation between Tarquin and Feyre, listening as Tarquin described the inland palace they spent half of the year inhabiting.

“It’s relatively new in comparison to this one,” Tarquin explained, nodding his welcome to me as I came to stand beside them, “legend has it we came from the sea, and settled here first, then eventually moved further inland. We had help in designing and building the inland palace, so it’s a bit less… sand castle.”

Feyre grinned at Tarquin in genuine amusement, and it still caused my heart to constrict in pain that _he_ had earned her smiles and grins, and yet I was still denied them. However, it pleased me regardless of my pain, to see her happy in whatever format and with whomever gave it to her - anything was better than the shell of a person she had been a mere month ago.

“Well I’m sure it’s beautiful, sand or not,” Feyre said, her eyes dancing with amusement.

I smirked a little, sipping my wine as Tarquin flashed her a brilliant smile before he commented, “It would be truly beautiful were you to visit me there, Feyre.”

It took everything in me not to choke on my wine or shatter my wine glass at his overly blatant flirting, but it was Tarquin himself that put a full stop on my raging jealousy. I watched as he turned his head slightly to the side and saw him wink at me. There was something about the gesture that reminded me of Cassian, of how he might flirt and tease Feyre, and yet I knew he meant nothing by it. I knew in that moment that Tarquin was simply a playful flirt, oh sure, he might be attracted to Feyre, even delighted by her, but he wasn’t actively pursuing her. For the first time since we arrived here the painful knot inside of me relaxed and I felt tension in my shoulders ease - only to tighten once again in further guilt.

Tarquin was truly a good fae, genuine and kind, and I once again heard Feyre’s words in my mind, _you should just _ask_ him for the damned Book._

Feyre’s playful snort covered my wavering decision as she responded to him, “Oh yes, I’m sure my presence alone would improve its beauty, if that is the case, I retract my earlier statement.”

Tarquin tossed his head back in laughter, and I glanced towards Amren, a smile plastered on my face, but a question in my eyes that I knew she would read. _Do we ask?_

Her steadfast silver gaze met mine for a mere second, and I found no answer there - or perhaps I found the only real answer I could ever find. _You are High Lord - _you_ decide._

Feeling Feyre’s gaze on me, I looked towards her again and no smile was to be found on her face, only a challenge in her eyes. Then she looked away and let out a quiet laugh in response to Tarquin’s buoyant joy.

The burden of a High Lord - to make a decision that could impact my people, even all the people of Prythian. This was my responsibility, and mine alone, perhaps some day I would not carry this burden by myself, but in this moment it was mine to make.

Listening to Tarquin and Feyre continuing to talk, I felt my burden grow heavier as I came to my decision.

I would not ask, and Cauldron save me that it was the right choice.

It was almost as if Feyre knew the instant I made my final decision, because I saw her shoulders tense slightly, and something in her blue-gray eyes tighten, though she did not falter in her chatter. I hated to let her down, she believed Tarquin trustworthy, and I wanted to believe that she was right, but there was more to consider than just him. Truthfully, in some ways my decision might protect him and his people - for if Hybern came down on him over the Book he could declare he was robbed. The weight of these choices were not just black and white, there were such nuances of grays and dark blues and rippling purples that it was easy to get lost in the may-have’s and might-be’s.

It was to my great relief that shortly after the start of my internal moral debate that Tarquin admitted he needed to end the evening.

“Truly Rhysand, I regret having to retire for the evening, I have enjoyed our many discussions these past few days. Thank you for requesting this visit, it has been a delight,” Tarquin said while gripping my hand and smiling warmly at me.

I smiled in turn, guilt might be roiling inside of me, but I could not deny that I had enjoyed this visit as well - it had been a pleasure not to be viewed entirely as the all powerful evil High Lord of the Night Court. “Duty calls as it always must,” I replied with understanding, “but I am sincerely grateful for your kindness to myself and my party.”

Behind me I could hear Amren and Feyre speaking with Cresseida and Varian, sharing mutual words of kindness and farewells. Of course Tarquin and his cousins believed they would be seeing us in the morning, but it would be for a last meeting to finalize any additional business between us, tonight was for our informal parting.

Tarquin gave my hand another firm squeeze before releasing it and looked past me towards Feyre. I followed his gaze, studying her as she nodded to something Cresseida said.

“She is a rare pearl, Rhysand. I trust you will treat her better than Tamlin.”

I froze, then turned my head to meet Tarquin’s gaze, studying his face. “What do you know about it?”

Tarquin shook his head once, “More than you would expect and less than I can admit publicly.”

Arching a brow I responded quietly, “If that is the case, were you asked, would you provide aid to defend her?”

He let loose a quiet laugh, “Ah it always comes back to politics doesn’t it? Though I notice you did not ask for aid to defend your lands from him, only for aid to defend her. Interesting.” We both fell quiet, studying each other as though studying the layout of a battlefield, trying to pick the strongest defensive point. He let out a breath before smiling again, “I suppose, should that day come, you will just have to see if there is a fair wind and smooth seas.”

Honestly that was all I could ask for, and yet I knew, when it came to Feyre, I would always ask for more.

Smirking, I turned my attention back to Feyre once again as I said quietly, “No matter what other truths or lies are spoken about her, remember this - she walked under that mountain, alone and willingly, and only after being tortured, did she die and save us all. We owe her a debt that can never honestly be repaid.”

I felt Tarquin shift beside me as though trying to ease the burden of that debt, though he did not respond in kind.

There were no other words to say.

Feyre left Amren to her verbal sparring with Varian, with Cresseida a laughing witness, and rejoined us.

“Tarquin, thank you for everything…” Feyre began, but Tarquin waved her off before taking her hand and lifting it, kissing her knuckles lightly. I shifted my position slightly as I felt Feyre’s body tense, and lifted my hand to place it lightly on her back, in order to comfort her.

“Feyre, it has truly been my pleasure to meet you and share my city with you, my only regret is that this visit has been so short.” He smiled at her warmly and leaned in, placing a second kiss on her cheek, then he grinned at both of us, “Perhaps next time I can brave the fearsome Night Court, hmm?”

I let out a soft chuckle, even as I felt Feyre struggling beside me not to reveal the truth to Tarquin. “Of course, we would be delighted for your visit Tarquin. Let us know at your earliest convenience.”

A little more pleasant conversation and then we escaped the dining hall, walking sedately through the passages to our private chambers in silence. Upon entering the common room Amren hardly glanced at us before heading to her room, but Feyre stopped to look at me. I could read the question in her eyes, _are you sure?_, and what else could I do but nod once. Yes. This was the course I had set us on, we would follow through.

Taking a deep breath she lifted her chin, as a fallen champion might lift theirs in the hour of their defeat - with pride at a battle well fought. There was something about this look on her that thrilled me, even though it’s implications threatened to crush me. Without a word she continued on to her room, leaving me to the flickering shadows and the silence that swirled thickly around me.

With a twist of my power I shifted my clothing from my finest black suit to that of my form fitting leathers before I walked to the wall of windows to stare out at the black ocean. I no longer considered my decision, there was no more time for that, we were long past it. Now it was time to consider the battle, and long experience had taught me to never go into battle expecting to lose. Tonight we would collect the Book and we would go home, all of us, alive. There were no other options, no other paths to walk or courses to take.

We would succeed.

We had to.

\- - - ~*~ - - -

I had lost count of how many passes around the island I had made since dropping Amren and Feyre off at the water logged temple, but I knew several hours had passed by the decent of the moon across the night sky. I doubted that I had reason to be concerned as no alarm had yet been raised in the palace, but as the hours slid by my anxiety continued to grow. In all honesty, it was only the knowledge that Feyre was not alone, that Amren was by her side, that kept me from doing something idiotic and drastic. Instead I focused my thoughts on the guards, slipping in amongst their thoughts like a shadow, watching for any signs that we had been caught.

While I was not a fan of Varian, I was impressed by his guards, who, for the most part, appeared to be alert and well trained. They were proud of their land and their High Lord, and proud to be guards in his service - and that was a testament, not just to him, but to his captain of the guard, who would have the most direct contact with them, and would help instill that pride. Perhaps they should have spent time scouring the skies a bit more, but seeing as they had no direct neighbors with an aerial force it was to be understood, foolish of course, but easily understood.

However, as the sky began to lighten, threatening the approach of dawn, my anxiety began to double - and not just because I was shortly going to become extremely visible. No, it started much the same way an avalanche would begin, timidly, and then all at once. A flash of alarm broke out amongst the outermost guards closest to the temple and began to spread quickly inwards - within seconds I knew we were had.

With barely a thought I summoned my darkness and wrapped it around me, winnowing behind the first guard who triggered the initial alarm. Grabbing him by his shoulder I spun him and swung my right arm up, my fist connecting with his jaw, causing his head to snap back. Feeling him go limp I let go of him, letting him fall to the ground. My eyes snapped up to see another guard further down who saw me knock the first guard out. Already he had triggered the alarm further in towards the palace but now he was shouting and brandishing his weapons.

Wonderful.

I hadn’t wanted a fight, but it appeared to be inevitable - but if a fight must be had, I would do as little damage as possible. I hoped taking the time to do it this way would show Tarquin that despite lying and stealing from him, I was not the monster everyone swore I was. I summoned no weapons, instead I ran towards the second guard as he took his defensive stance, his sword angled towards me, and his eyes narrowed in focus. Two steps away from him, I winnowed behind him and used my forward momentum to grab him and spin us both around, slamming him into the wall of the guard house that had been behind him. His weapons clattered to the ground, and though dazed he tried to struggle against my grip, so I yanked him back and slammed him forward once more, and this time he went limp.

Letting go of him he fell to the ground and I walked to the edge of the parapet, looking over to see the guards running to signal further into the island. We were out of time, but neither Amren nor Feyre had sent a signal. Where were they? Did they need more time? Glancing behind me at the temple I gauged my options while trying to reach down the bond for Feyre, but I felt nothing coming from her which could mean… a lot of different things. Whatever I was going to do, I needed to do it now.

Gritting my teeth, I winnowed down off the wall and into the courtyard below, grabbing one guard firmly I slammed him into another nearby one, causing them both to drop their weapons. Stunned, they stumbled back from each other, reaching uncertainly for their secondary weapons. Grabbing the arm of the first one, I twisted it up behind his back, yanking it up firmly, then kicked the back of his knees, forcing him to fall to the ground, his arm dislocating from his shoulder with a quiet pop. He groaned painfully as I let go of him, letting him fall flat on the ground.

The second guard had recovered by now and had his dagger drawn, running at me and swinging it towards me in an arc. Twisting slightly, I raised my left arm to block his right holding the dagger and swung my fist up, connecting with his jaw. While he was slightly dazed I reached with my right hand and grabbed the fist holding the dagger, twisting his wrist sharply and breaking his wrist, causing him to scream and drop the dagger. Shoving him, I let him topple backwards then turned to survey the area.

The alarms were moving steadily in towards the palace and more guards were filing into the courtyard, yelling and pointing towards the temple, and towards me. Cursing, I considered my options, of which there were few, that is unless I was willing to do _more_ damage to Tarquin’s guards.

I wasn’t.

Growling in frustration, I pulled my darkness around me again and winnowed into the sky, snapping my wings out to catch the currentand shot towards the temple, my wings beating hard until I was circling above it. That was when I finally noticed that the temple was nearly completely submerged beneath the tide, hours before the high tide was due. Had they been in trouble all this time and I just hadn’t realized it? I reached out, trying to penetrate the temple with my powers, trying to feel past the shields, to locate them… the outer seal was breached, but there was an inner seal still locked in place. Were they trapped behind it?

Were they drowning?

Darkness began to gather to me, swirling and flooding the air around me as I gathered my power to make a strike at that seal. I _would_ break it, no matter what it cost me. Then, suddenly, a flicker down the bond made me hesitate for a second. Desperately, I reached down the bond again, feeling for Feyre, to finally feel her alive on the other end, frantic and shaken, but alive.

Exhaling sharply, I cast my eyes over the shoreline, looking for them but seeing nothing, nothing… Looking out further, I wondered if the tide had caught them, drawing them out to sea, but something on the not too distant shore of the mainland caught my attention. Two bodies lying prone, and every fiber of my body screamed, _There! She’s there!_

Praying my gut was right, I changed course and began to dive, pulling my wings in tight to my body to increase my speed as I crossed the short stretch of ocean. Reaching the shore, I spread my wings to slow my approach, but only just barely, landing with a hard thud on the wet sand. Crossing the last two feet towards them in a run, my heart pounded hard to see it was them, waterlogged and shivering with cold, but alive, Mother above, blessedly alive.

I wanted to laugh. I suspected however that were I to do so it would have come out sounding more than a little manic. Shaking my head, I reached out with one foot to lightly prod Feyre’s calf before asking, “What are you two doing?”

Feyre opened her eyes, but her attention bypassed me entirely to focus on Amren, who was pushing herself up onto her elbows and scowling at me darkly.

“Where the _hell_ were you?” She growled at me.

“You two set off every damned trigger in the place.” I replied dryly, “I was hunting down each guard who went to sound the alarm.” Blowing out a breath of air, I continued with a little annoyance, “I thought you had it covered.”

That was the wrong thing to say however, as Amren’s silver eyes flashed with anger and she hissed at me, “That _place,_ or that damned Book, nearly nullified my powers. We almost drowned.”

Panic surged through me as my gaze snapped to meet Feyre’s tired eyes, realizing that my earlier fear had been correct - they had been in danger and I felt none of it. “I didn’t feel it through the bond-“

“It probably nullified that, too, you stupid bastard,” Amren snapped at me with a lot more energy than she honestly looked to have at the moment.

Guilt pounded through me, my friend, my _Mate_ had been in life threatening danger and I hadn’t realized it, hell, I had sent them into it, and they had nearly died… I almost lost her. Again.

I honestly hadn’t even considered the risks of sending them into the temple, or rather I had assumed that Amren was more than powerful enough to keep them both safe. I had failed them both, I should have done more digging, tried to find more information, or gone by myself, or hell, even just asked Tarquin for the damned Book. Mistakes and misjudgments piled one on top another until I was certain I would drown beneath them one of these days.

Letting out a quiet sigh, I asked instead, “Did you get it?”

Feyre’s only response was to touch her jacket, to which I nodded. “Good.”

Her gaze left mine to glance across the bay at the island and a look of concern flashed across her face, which was soon mirrored on Amren’s. I didn’t need to look, I knew what they were seeing.

“I missed some guards,” I nearly growled with frustration - they had upheld their end of the mission, and I had failed. Shaking my head, I leaned down to grip their arms, pulling up my darkness to surround us and winnowed us all home, landing in the foyer of the town house. They both collapsed on the floor, coating the dark carpet in sand and water.

Before the last wisps of darkness vanished I heard Cassian yelling from the dining room behind us, “What the hell?”

Eying both women, I intended to reach down in order to help them, but something in Amren’s gaze stopped me. Anger, yes, and at the same time, curiosity, she had questions for Feyre was my guess, and she didn’t want me getting in the way. I seriously considered ignoring that look and getting my Mate up off the floor, but decided I owed Amren and would let her have this. Stepping around both women, I made my way towards the table where my family sat, saying simply, “I’m waiting for an explanation, too.”

Shifting to the side, so that I could see everyone better, I watched as Amren stared at Feyre with narrowed eyes as she asked sharply, “How?”

Feyre shrugged before explaining, “During the Tithe, the water-wraith emissary said they had no gold, no food to pay. They were starving.” She paused for a moment, it looked as though it hurt her to talk and she appeared a little green around the edges, likely due to the salt water… how close to drowning had they truly been? “So I gave her some of my jewelry to pay her dues. She swore that she and her sisters would never forget the kindness.”

Amren just stared at Feyre as though she had lost her mind. In the following silence I saw Mor lean forward and ask, “Can someone explain, please?”

Before anyone could say another word, Amren began to laugh, her small body shaking with it. That alone floored all of us and insured not one of us was likely to talk any time soon. Amren laughing was unusual to say the least, oh she might give an odd chuckle, but full on laughing? It was a rare sight indeed.

“What?” Feyre demanded, her brows knitting together in confession.

“Only an immortal with a mortal heart would have given one of those horrible beasts the money. It’s so…” Amren trailed off, laughing again and shaking her head. “Whatever luck you live by, girl… thank the Cauldron for it.”

However, if Amren laughing was practically unheard of, Feyre laughing was somehow almost rarer, despite how much younger she was in comparison. It truly brought some measure of peace to me though, despite the guilt that was hammering to be let in, to hear her laugh, even with how raspy and raw it sounded. Cassian, Azriel and Mor just looked confused and astonished, but I couldn’t help the vague smile that curled my lips - oh I was just as confused and astonished as they were, but to see Feyre laughing made everything else seem less important.

Giving them a few minutes to let it all out, I waited until the laughter began to taper off before I called out to them in a simple request that they join us, “Ladies.”

Letting out the last couple of chuckles, Feyre hoisted herself to her feet with a groan, sand cascading off her onto the floor. Lifting her hand she held it out to Amren, who took the offered aid and stood with Feyre’s help. Once upright, Amren snapped her fingers, and instantly both her and Feyre’s leathers were clean and dry. My floors on the other hand were a soiled mess, done intentionally no doubt, and I almost rolled my eyes at Amren’s pettiness. Ah well, I would deal with that later.

Feyre walked into the dining room and reached inside her jacket, pulling out a small dull gray box, setting it down on the table in front of us with a soft thud, causing Mor, Cassian and Azriel to recoil with vague swears of shock and amazement.

Studying the box for a moment, I shifted my gaze to meet Feyre’s and crooked a finger at her, “One last task, Feyre. Unlock it, please.”

Honestly, she looked exhausted, and if she told me to sod off, I wouldn’t force her to do it right now. She had earned a break, but I wanted to push her again, just a little, to see if she would push back, or if she could instead push herself just a little further than she thought she could go. Without looking at me she slid into a chair with a tired sigh, then reached out and pulled the box towards her, resting one hand on top of it.

For a moment there was nothing, then I heard the words.

_Hello, liar._

If the absence of nothing could echo, that is how I thought it might sound, because I had heard nothing else in my life time to compare the sound of those words to. However it was with sudden shock that it hit me, I was not hearing those words myself, but rather as an actual echo down our bond.

“Hello,” Feyre responded quietly.

Swallowing, I kept my eyes on Feyre as she held conversation with the box. No. With the Book inside of the box.

_Will you read me?_

“No.”

A brief glance around the room showed me that Mor, Cassian and Azriel were thoroughly confused, but Amren was staring hard at Feyre, and somehow I was completely convinced she was hearing this conversation as well. Looking back at Feyre I saw her brows furrow with concentration for a moment, but she said nothing out loud. Then I heard the box respond to whatever silent command she must have told it.

_Say please._

Had she asked the Book to open the box mentally perhaps?

“Please,” she said.

The Book was silent for several long seconds before it spoke again.

_Like calls to like._

Feyre’s eyes narrowed with frustration. “Open,” she gritted out.

Suddenly I heard the Book speak, not just down the bond this time, but actually in my head, and a quick glance around the room showed me that the rest heard it as well.

_Unmade and Made; Made and Unmade - that is the cycle. Like calls to like._

Feyre did not respond outwardly, except to push her hand down harder on the box, her brows narrowing in focus.

Then suddenly the Book called out to just Feyre, and once again I only heard it down the bond.

_Cursebreaker_, and then the box clicked open.

Feyre sagged back in her chair, dropping her hand down onto her lap in apparent exhaustion.

The entire room was silent, except for the quiet popping of the fireplace, each of us just staring at the box in shock and confusion, and fear.

Finally Cassian spoke up, nearly in a whisper, “I never want to hear that voice again.”

I wanted to agree with him, of course, but that wasn’t an option, for either of us. “Well you will,” I replied with more calm than I honestly felt. “Because you’re coming with us to see those mortal queens as soon as they deign to visit.”

The look on Cassian’s face wasn’t encouraging, but I ignored it in favor of leaning forward to peer down into the box, as everyone else did as well. Almost instantly everyone seemed to recoil from the book, and I followed shortly after, having confirmed for myself what the legends said, that this Book was not made of paper and leather, but rather metal plates. Glancing to the side I saw that Amren had not recoiled as we all had, but had in fact leaned in for a better look, all of the blood draining from her face.

I was not surprised.

Mor spoke up quietly, asking a question everyone else was surely wondering. “What language is that?”

It was Amren who responded in a whisper, shoving her hands deep into her pockets. “It is no language of this world.”

More of the legends were correct then, and it was not difficult to hazard a guess that Amren knew this language, or had at the very least, seen it before.

Azriel continued the thread of Mor’s questioning, his shadows twisting around him in chaotic swirls, hinting at both his curiosity and his anxiety in regard to this unknown entity. “What is it, then?”

Amren continued to stare at the book for several long minutes, saying absolutely nothing, but there was a new look in her eyes, a deep abiding hunger. “It is the Leshon Hakodesh,” she answered finally, shifting her gaze up to meet mine, before she continued, “The Holy Tongue.”

I gave her a small nod in acknowledgement. “I heard a legend,” I began to explain to everyone, but kept my gaze fixed on Amren, “that it was written in a tongue of mighty beings who feared the Cauldron’s power and made the Book to combat it. Mighty beings who were here… and then vanished.” I arched a brow at her, “You are the only one who can uncode it.”

Mor let out a small huff then said in a warning tone, “Don’t play those sorts of games, Rhysand.”

Glancing over at my cousin I shook my head slowly, “Not a game. It was a gamble that Amren would be able to read it - and a lucky one.”

Amren glared at me, her silver eyes flashing in annoyance and anger, her body shifting subtly as though she might just lunge for me. I had withheld information from her, and I knew just how much that would piss her off - if she wanted to throttle me, well, I would happily let her try. Smiling at her, I gave a little shrug, then added, “I thought, too, that the Book might also contain the spell to free you - and send you home. If they were the ones who wrote it in the first place.”

The entire room froze. Amren swallowed once, some of the fury leeching from her eyes, to be replaced by uncertain hope.

Cassian exhaled then swore, “Shit.”

“I did not tell you my suspicions,” I continued, “because I did not want to get your hopes up. But if the legends about the language were indeed right… Perhaps you might find what you’ve been looking for, Amren.”

“I need the other piece before I can begin decoding it,” Amren said, her voice raw, and I did not think it was just from the salt water, emotion rolled through her, thick and nearly overwhelming.

“Hopefully our request to the mortal queens will be answered soon,” I said quietly as my gaze shifted to the foyer, looking over the sand staining the carpet, a reminder of how I had failed Amren and Feyre and sent them to their near deaths.“And hopefully the next encounter will go better than this one.”

Amren’s stared at me for a long moment, then gave me a nod, saying quietly, “Thank you.”

A corner of my mouth quirked up in response. It was then that Mor let out a rather loud and dramatic sigh, and began to demand the full story of what had happened at Summer Court. Before we could even explain what had happened, Azriel cut in, pointing out that the Book might not solve all of our problems. “Even if the book can nullify the Cauldron… there’s Jurian to contend with.”

Everyone glanced at him and he clarified “That’s the piece that doesn’t fit.” Taping one of his scarred fingers on the table he continued, “Why resurrect him in the first place? And how does the king keep him bound? What does the king have over Jurian to keep him loyal?”

“I’d considered that,” I replied as I moved around the table to take the chair between my two brothers, sitting opposite of Feyre who had said nothing since opening the box and seemed content to sit and listen, warming herself by the fire. “Jurian was… obsessive in his pursuits of things. He died with many of those goals left unfinished.”

Mor’s eyes widened and her face paled. “If he suspects Miryam is alive-“

Smirking a little at my cousin, I cut her off before she could continue, “Odds are, Jurian believes Miryam is gone.” Mor’s brows knit in confusion and I shrugged. “And who better to raise his former lover than a king with a Cauldron able to resurrect the dead?”

I didn’t think it was possible for her to pale further, but somehow she did, even as she sagged back in her chair in shock.

Cassian however, leaned forward, bracing his arms on the table as he looked over at me. “Would Jurian ally with Hybern just because he thinks Miryam is dead and wants her back?”

I shrugged because I couldn’t know for sure, but it was as plausible an answer as any, and there was one more factor to keep in mind. “He’d do it to get revenge on Drakon for winning her heart.” That made them all pause, all except for Feyre who looked around the group with confusion - she had no idea who these people were or how they all tied together. I would have to explain it all to her later, for now however she looked exhausted. “We'll discuss this later.”

It was then that Mor once again spoke up, asking for an explanation for what happened in Summer. Amren took up the job of explaining everything, from landing in Summer Court to our hasty departure from the beach. Fortunately Amren glazed over several key parts of our trip, I was appreciative that she didn’t deign to mention slapping me. Though when she began to explain their decent into the temple, and their desperate attempts to escape my earlier guilt swirled through me. I had so nearly lost her, and likely would have never known until it was far too late.

I kept my gaze on Feyre, examining her quietly and noticing just how tired she really looked. After a while she seemed to sense my gaze on her and looked towards me, her gray-blue eyes considering me for a moment before she inclined her head. A moment later I felt her shield lower slightly followed by a thought drifting down the bond towards me.

_To the dreams that are answered._

Heat flooded through me, not fueled by desire or anger, but rather hope, filling every inch of me as I remembered that moment in her chambers in the Summer Court.

Stretching our a talon of thought, I brushed it along her mental shields to feel them drop briefly, and I passed a thought back to her, gentle and grateful.

_To the huntresses who remember to reach back for those less fortunate - and water-wraiths who swim very, very fast._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you have a minute or two to leave a kudos or comment I would really appreciate it.
> 
> I am still relatively new to writing fan fiction and I would love any critiques you can throw my way, good or bad.
> 
> Thank you so much! - Otter
> 
> P.S. Legend of Zelda for the chapter title win!


	6. A Debt of Lies and Honor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: If you have not read A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas I strongly suggest you go read it first - it's undoubtedly better written and what I have written will spoil the book for you.
> 
> I am re-writing all of ACOMAF from Rhysand's perspective, using all of the original characters/scenes/dialogue, and adding in new bits and bobs to flesh his story out more.
> 
> This Section:  
Ch. 1 - Rhysand, Feyre and Amren head to the Summer Court (New scenes)  
Ch. 2 - Dinner on the barge, and Rhysand spends time with Cresseida (New scenes)  
Ch. 3 - Rhysand and Tarquin bargain, then Rhysand has a private chat with Feyre (Several new scenes)  
Ch. 4 - Dinner with Tarquin and the location of the Book  
Ch. 5 - Stealing the Book (Several new scenes)  
Ch. 6 - Blood Rubies and nightmares (Several new scenes)  
Ch. 7 - Waiting for the Queens to respond (Several new scenes)  
CH. 8 - A/N: An apology and update on health and writing
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> *Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.

Our little party broke up not much longer after our tale finished, with Amren escaping back to her loft in order to examine the Book more thoroughly. Azriel was the next to leave, with Cassian hot on his tail in order to inspect our borders to insure there was no retribution from Summer Court. Feyre left as soon as she finished eating a hearty breakfast, a sight which thrilled me unlike her more meager meals in the not-too-distant past, and I knew she was not long for her bed.

In the end I was left with Mor, who accompanied me into my office, beginning our conversation with updating me on matters in my lands, starting with Hewn City and working outwards. A couple hours in, and I was confidant with the state of everything, my friends had done an excellent job of keeping everything running smoothly while we had been away, not that I had any doubt they would.

Leaning back in my chair I traced the wood grain with the pad of my index finger, my thoughts drifting as Mor finally came to the end of her report. For a moment, neither of us said anything, but unsurprisingly it was Mor who broke the silence.

“So, what part of your story did you and Amren leave out, hmm?”

The corner of my mouth turned up in a smirk, “And what makes you think we left anything out my dear cousin?”

Mor snorted and folded her arms across her chest, “Well first of all, you always leave something out Rhys, you always have a move hidden in the shadows none of us know about. The long lost language that only Amren can translate is proof of that.”

I inclined my head towards her, giving her that one.

“And secondly,” she continued, “there is something different between you and Feyre.”

That made me pause for a moment and stare at her. “What? What do you think is different?”

That made Mor smirk at me, “So something did happen then?”

I blew out a breath and leaned my head back against my chair, staring up at the ceiling.

“Tarquin was attracted to her,” I began slowly. “Or maybe he was just attracted to his power that is inside of her. I’m not sure… but I was jealous. I lost sight of the mission for a while, nearly made a fool of myself, nearly messed up the whole damn plan.”

Mor said nothing at first, but finally she asked me softly, “Did you tell her? Is that what-“

“No.”

More silence.

“I don’t understand, something is different between you.” Mor finally said, trying to puzzle it out. “She seems more… open. She hardly said anything earlier, she let you and Amren talk, but even with her being quiet it was still obvious. What happened?”

I finally looked back at Mor and gave a vague sort of smile, one that was more filled with pain than humor. “I told her… I told her one of the many reasons why she should never become involved with me.”

Mor’s eyes widened and her arms dropped to her lap as she leaned forward towards me, “Rhysand! Why?”

Shaking my head I sighed and stood up, walking over to one of the many bookshelves and staring blindly at the titles on the covers. “Because someday, if she does learn the truth, she deserves to know what accepting the bond, what accepting me, would truly entail. The good and the very bad.”

“Oh Rhys,” Mor sighed and I heard her chair scrap across the floor as she stood then felt her hand as it rested lightly on my shoulder. “Why did telling her why she should avoid you make her open up to you further? Did you think about that?”

Turning slightly, I looked down at my cousin and frowned, to which she smirked at me for a change and shook her head. “Maybe you should.”

Giving my shoulder a squeeze she stepped back and brushed a hand down over her blouse, “I have a councilors meeting in a quarter hour, so I need to go prepare. You look tired, try and rest a little… which I know you won’t do.”

She grinned at me and I rolled my eyes, she did know me a little too well.

“I’ll drop by later Rhys, try and take it easy regardless.”

With a parting smile Mor left, and I soon found myself once again sitting behind my desk looking over the reports she had left me. They were endless and I needed to review them - even though I trusted my Inner Circle implicitly, it was my responsibility to stay abreast of everything happening in my lands, no matter how small. I was, however, exhausted - the past several days had robbed my pool of energy and I struggled to keep my attention in place. At some point tea appeared in front of me and I grunted my appreciation but honestly couldn’t say who supplied it.

It wasn’t until a wooden box was placed on the desk in front of me, covering the training reports from the Illyrian war camps, that I finally looked up. Glancing towards the window I saw how late in the afternoon it was getting, then turned my attention to a very grim faced Azriel, his shadows thick and oppressive around him. Looking back down at the elegant wooden box I saw the dagger carved in the top, inlaid with mother of pearl, and for a second my heart stopped. Lifting a hand, I gripped the lid of the box and pushed it open. Nestled in a bed of luxurious white velvet were three red rubies, each the size of a chicken egg. Closing my eyes for a moment, I exhaled and shut the box then looked back up at Azriel.

“When?”

Azriel’s demeanor hadn’t changed at all in the time it took me to examine the proof of my failure. “An hour ago, I secured the box then scouted the area. I believe it was winnowed in and left.”

Reaching up I pinched the bridge of my nose. We were dead fae walking, in the Summer Court at least - this was nothing new to me, assassination attempts came my way frequently. Attempts on Amren’s life were so frequent that she had a system in place to rank their effectiveness and creativity, she had even sent reports back to surviving members of the family before. But Feyre… oh Feyre. She did not deserve this, no matter what she had done, she did not deserve this - and it was my fault. She had warned me, damn near begged me to just ask Tarquin, and when I refused she had done as I asked without complaint, and now…

Guilt and grief and rage pounded through every inch of my body, threatening to overwhelm me. The four walls of my office pressed in on me and I found myself struggling to remember how to breath.

Azriel.

I felt him watching me, and I had just enough control to remember that I couldn’t let him, let anyone, see me like this.

“Az, check the coastline - it’s likely, if there is an attack, it will come from the sea.” Looking up at him, his hazel eyes were shadowed, but they were kind, and that kindness stabbed deeper than any judgement on his part ever could. Discarding that kindness I pushed forward, “And check in with your spies in Spring, if Tarquin cares to ask for aid in his revenge then Spring would be his most likely ally.”

Azriel considered me for a moment then said quietly, “There are no actions for which there are no consequences, even the lack of action causes a reaction. Whether or not your choices were the right ones, they were actions made with good intent, those intentions define the results.”

“I told you that you could trust Feyre with my life, with everyone’s life, and yet when I was put to the test, I failed to follow my own advice and this,” I gestured to the box in front of me, “this is the result. I have once again, by my choices, put her life, put all our lives, in danger. Perhaps I should not be the one making these decisions, have you ever considered that Azriel?”

The corner of Azriel’s mouth quirked up in a rare show of humor, “Not once since the Blood Rite, and even then the only choice I questioned was letting Cassian climb first - if he fell he would have knocked us both down.”

I saw the humor for what it was, a kindness, a distraction, an attempt to keep me from succumbing to my guilt - and I refused to accept it. I did not deserve it.

Shaking my head once I gestured briefly with my hand, “Go, check the coast and check in with your spies, let me know what you find as soon as possible.”

The humor left his face at my command and Azriel nodded his agreement before turning, taking a single step and disappearing into the shadows that swirled around him, leaving me alone once again in my office, staring at that damn box. I needed air.

Standing up, I picked up the box and left my office, making my way through the town house up to the roof garden and across the tiles to the white-painted iron table and chairs. Setting the box down on the table I took a seat and spread my wings out behind me to catch the last rays of the sun, and finally managed to take a deep breath. Casting my gaze out across Velaris I took in the sights and sounds of my city, but the warmth these things should have brought me only made my guilt weigh heavier on my shoulders. Would my choices one day lead to the destruction of my beloved city? Everything I had done had been to protect those people and things I loved best, but had they all been done in vain? Glancing back at the box it seemed to mock me, it was proof of my folly.

Gritting my teeth I opened my pocket realm and retrieved a crystal decanter full of liquor and a single glass, setting both down on the table. Filling the glass I leaned back and took a large swallow, feeling the liquid fire burning its way down my throat. I knew it was a foolish decision, the liquor would not burn away the thoughts swirling in my head, it would not blunt the guilt crushing me inside, but enough of it would likely lead to temporary oblivion and it was a rare relief I occasionally sought.

And then I felt her, my Feyre, climbing the stairs to the roof, opening the door behind me and hesitating. Cauldron… I wasn’t sure I could face her, and yet… I needed her.

Behind me I heard her clear her throat, being polite as though she had no right to this space. Perhaps she still did not consider this home. The thought pained me deeply.

“I know you’re there,” I said in response, keeping my gaze on the city, tracing the winding line of the Sidra, following it out to the sea.

“If you want to be alone, I can go,” she said sharply, and I could almost see the scowl on her face.

Rather than respond in words I just jerked my chin at the table - I needed her at my side, but I knew I was no fit company, and it would be best if she understood that early on.

There was a moment of silence before I heard her footsteps as she crossed the roof and took the seat beside me, her attention quickly drawn to that damn box as though it was calling to her.

“What is that?” She asked without hesitation.

Lifting my glass I drained it, relishing the slow burn, then gestured, using a star kissed breeze to lift and move the decanter into my open hand. Tilting it, I poured another knuckle’s length of liquor into my glass, then leaned forward and placed the decanter back on the table before I responded.

“I debated it for a good while, you know,” I began, keeping my gaze on the city, almost too ashamed to look at her, to admit she had likely been right. “Whether I should just ask Tarquin for the Book.” I flicked a glance to her before looking away again and continuing, “But I thought that he might very well say no, then sell the information to the highest bidder. I thought he might say yes, and it’d still wind up with too many people knowing our plans and the potential for that information to get out. And at the end of the day, I needed the _why_ of our mission to remain secret for as long as possible.” Lifting my glass I swallowed another mouthful of the amber liquid, and already I could feel my body loosening up, I could feel the edges of that oblivion I sought seeking me out. Running a hand through my hair I let out a breath and admitted to her a painful truth, “I didn’t like stealing from him. I didn’t like hurting his guards. I didn’t like vanishing without a word, when, ambition or no, he did truly want an alliance. Maybe even friendship. No other High Lords have ever bothered - or dared. But I think Tarquin wanted to be my friend.”

And I had wanted to be his. He was a good fae. He had deserved better than what I had done to him. Feyre had known this, she had told me, and I hadn’t listened. My choice. My fault.

Feyre listened to me without comment, her gaze flicking back and forth between me and the box. Finally she asked me again simply, “What is that?”

I gestured briefly with my free hand, “Open it.”

Without hesitation she reached up and flipped the lid open and then leaned forward to inspect the rubies with burning curiosity. With a hand raised towards them as though to touch them I explained what they were.

“Blood rubies.”

Her hand froze and then withdrew as her gaze returned to mine, further questions burning in her eyes. Before she could ask I continued to explain, “In the Summer Court, when a grave insult has been committed, they send a blood ruby to the offender.” I hesitated for a minute while she frowned at me in confusion, glancing back at the rubies. Rolling the glass between my fingers I finally gave her the rest of the truth, “An official declaration that there is a price on their head - that they are now hunted, and will soon be dead. The box arrived at the Court of Nightmares and hour ago.”

Understanding dawned on her face and she leaned back in her chair, meeting my gaze again as she said quietly, “I take it one of these has my name on it. And yours. And Amren’s.”

Guilt lanced through my again sharply. A brief gesture and a touch of my power caused the lid on the box to flip shut, hiding the rubies once again, though it was pointless to hope a closed lid could hide my failure.

“I made a mistake,” I began, admitting to her the entire depth of how I failed her, and Amren, and everyone. “I should have wiped the minds of the guards and let them continue on. Instead, I knocked them out. It’s been a while since I had to do any sort of physical… defending like that, and I was so focused on my Illyrian training that I forgot the other arsenal at my disposal. They probably awoke and went right to them.”

Feyre shrugged, as though dismissing my poor decision. “He would have noticed the Book was missing soon enough.”

Shaking my head I dismissed her argument, “We could have denied that we stole it and chalked it up to coincidence.” Lifting my glass I drained it quickly then lowered it back to rest on my leg. “I made a mistake.”

Arching a brow she let out a little snort of derision, “It’s not the end of the world if you do that every now and then.”

I stared at her in disbelief. Seriously? How could she think that? It was my bad decision that put her life in danger. And what? She just didn’t care? Was she still that unhappy?

“You’ve been told you are public enemy number one of the Summer Court and you’re fine with it?”

“No.” She said quietly. “But I don’t blame you.”

I let out a long breath and turned my gaze back to the Sidra as the last rays of the sun disappeared, casting my city into darkness for only a brief second until suddenly, all across the city, lights flickered on, bringing forth the true hidden beauty Velaris.

“Perhaps,” Feyre began tentatively, “you could return the Book once we’ve neutralized the Cauldron - apologize.”

I snorted and shook my head, in any other situation it might not be a bad idea, but not this time. “No. Amren will get that book for as long as she needs it.”

Feyre frowned a little, her brows knitting together as she considered everything. “Then make it up to him some other way. Clearly _you_ wanted to be his friend as much as he wanted to be yours. You wouldn’t be so upset otherwise.”

“I’m not upset. I’m pissed off.”

She rolled her eyes at me. “Semantics.”

I gave her a half smile, she didn’t understand the difficulty of this situation because until four months ago she had been human; she lacked the experience to properly calculate all of the factors that played into the decisions I had to make.

“Feuds like the one we just started can last centuries - millennia.” I explained to her, finally looking away from the dancing light of Velaris to meet her gaze. Much like the feud I had with Tamlin, in the grand scheme of my lifespan, that feud was still in its infancy. This feud with Tarquin was different however, the factors involved could mean the difference between life and death, freedom and slavery. “If that’s the cost of stopping this war,” I continued, feeling the weight of this burden settle firmly on my shoulders, “of helping Amren… I’ll pay it.”

Her eyes darkened as she listened to me, beginning to worry her lower lip gently. It nearly managed to distract me.

“Do the others know,” she finally asked, “about the blood rubies?”

“Azriel was the one who brought them to me. I’m debating how to tell Amren.” Truthfully, my only hope is that the Book would be so distracting that she would not go into a rage at the sight of these rubies.

“Why?” Feyre looked at me, puzzled.

I stared at her for a long moment then finally said, “Because her answer would be to go to Adriata and wipe the city off the map.”

Feyre’s eyes widened and I watched her shudder.

I gave her a short nod. “Exactly.”

Turning my gaze back out to my city we sat in silence for a while, and my thoughts, which had been distracted by focusing on her questions, returned to my earlier retrospection.

“I understand,” Feyre said suddenly, startling me out of those painful thoughts, “why you did what you had to in order to protect this city.” I wasn’t entirely sure where she was going with this train of thought - and that concerned me, I was almost afraid to hear what else she might say, because this night… this night she could easily crush me, because I was already foundering. “And I understand,” she continued slowly, “why you will do anything to keep it safe during the times ahead.”

I stared at her before finally asking, more sharply than I really intended, “And your point is?”

“Get through this war, Rhysand, and then worry about Tarquin and the blood rubies. Nullify the Cauldron, stop the king from shattering the wall and enslaving the human realm again, and then we’ll figure out the rest after.”

She had said that Velaris was not her home, and yet these words, they sounded like she was planning ahead, like she saw more to her future than just fighting this war. Like maybe… she saw a future here.

“You sound as if you plan to stay here for a while.” I tried to keep my voice neutral, just like my heart, I tried not to let the hope creep in. I wasn’t sure I could survive it.

“I can find my own lodging, if that’s what you’re referring to. Maybe I’ll use that generous paycheck to get myself something lavish.” That was not the answer I was hoping for, despite myself, and yet there was something glittering in her eyes, something almost playful.

And I wasn’t in the mood to play with her - and especially not about the possibility of her staying longer than just through this war. The hope I had tied to that was too precious and too fragile for me to play games with.

“Spare your paycheck,” I said impassively as I looked away from her again. “Your name has already been added to the list of those approved to use my household credit. Buy whatever you wish. Buy yourself a whole damn house if you want.”

Out of the corner fo my eye I saw her fidget, as though uncertain and then lean forward towards me.

“I saw a pretty shop across the Sidra the other day,” she said playfully. “It sold what looked to be lots of lacy little things. Am I allowed to buy that on your credit, too, or does that come out of my personal funds?”

There was a brief moment of shock as her words registered, and were it any other night I would delight in her teasing, but not this night. Meeting her gaze I gave her the words that would free her from any personal obligation to stay and try to comfort me, “I’m not in the mood.”

And yet… she didn’t leave. Instead she held my gaze and said derisively, “I never knew Illyrians were such morose drunks.”

Smirking just slightly, I lifted my mostly empty glass up, “I’m not drunk - I’m drinking.”

“Again, semantics.” She leaned back in her seat, and I could see the gooseflesh on her skin - she was cold, and yet still, she would not leave. Why was she staying? “Maybe you should have slept with Cresseida after all - so you could both be sad and lonely together.”

That sent a flash of anger through me and I glared at her slightly - she had been so pissed to think I _had_ slept with Cresseida and now she was taunting me with it? And all because I was taking one evening for myself?

“So you’re entitled to have as many bad days as you want,” I said coldly, “but I can’t get a few hours?”

“Oh, take however long you want to mope,” she replied with a shrug. “I was going to invite you to come shopping with me for said lacy little unmentionables, but… sit up here forever, if you want to.”

My heart suddenly began to race at the very thought of seeing her dressed in lace, nearly bare before me.

“Maybe I’ll send a few to Tarquin,” she continued, tormenting me with my irrational jealousy, “with an offer to wear them for him if he forgives us. Maybe he’ll take those blood rubies right back.”

Oh she was cruel and wicked and oh so very delightful. I could feel myself beginning to smile despite my uncharitable mood.

“He’d see that as a taunt.”

She leaned towards me, almost smirking, her eyes flashing bright and playful. “I gave him a few smiles and he handed over a family heirloom. I bet he’d give me the keys to his territory if I showed up wearing those undergarments.”

I wanted to laugh, not because what she was saying was ridiculous, because it wasn’t, not even remotely. No, I wanted to laugh because it was likely true, but more than that, she was _playing_ with me, like all the times I had played with her to try and make her smile, to pull her out of her sadness.

And I was loving every second of it.

Smirking, I replied with amusement, “Someone thinks might highly of herself.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” She shot back quickly. “You seem to have difficulty _not_ staring at me day and night.”

Damn, she was spot on and she knew it - I could hardly keep my eyes off of her. I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame, and it wasn’t just because of the bond.

“Am I supposed to deny,” I said with slow drawl, “that I find you attractive?”

A touch of hesitation flashed across her face, “You’ve never said it.”

That drew me up short, because I had told her, more than once - had she ignored me? Or just dismissed those words as lies? Frowning slightly I leaned towards her as I said, “I’ve told you many times, and quite frequently, how attractive I find you.”

I watched as she shrugged, but there was a new glint in her eyes, something almost hopeful. “Well, maybe you should do a better job of it.”

My heart clenched and heat flooded through me. All those times before when I complimented her it was just me throwing words in her direction with the hope she would receive them, but now… now she was inviting those words, and it almost felt like she was promising to accept them. Grinning widely I braced my arms on the table, setting my glass down and pushing it out of the way as I stared at her with hunger. The game had changed between us and I was ready to play.

“Is that a challenge, Feyre?” I held her gaze, watching as her pupils dilated at my question.

“_Is_ it?” She asked me in turn, her voice a little raspy.

I desperately wanted to grab her, I wanted to pin her down against the table and kiss her, I wanted to mark her and worship every inch of her body. I had longed for her before, I had imagined her naked and dreamed of kissing her, but never before had I _hungered_ for her with such burning, desperate need - I had never let myself get this far gone before. This time though, she had lured me in as one might lure an animal to the slaughter and I was defenseless before her, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sliding my gaze from her penetrating eyes I took her in completely, the curve of her face, the angle of her jaw, the soft pillow of her lips, the length of her delicious neck and the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed. She was nervous, and yet a glance back at her eyes, seeing how dilated they were and focused wholly on me, I knew she was excited as well. She wanted to keep playing, with me, but I knew I had to be cautious, too fast, too hard, and she might startle.

“Why don’t we go down to that store right now, Feyre, so you can try on those lacy little things - so I can help you pick which one to send to Tarquin.”

I watched her swallow hard again, an obvious shiver racing through her body, and the desire flared hotter inside of her. She seemed to be at a loss for words, and I began to lean towards her, intent on teasing her further when the sound of wing beats caught my attention and I cast my eyes towards the sky, taking in the sight of an Illyrian shooting towards us. A brush of my mind across theirs revealed it to be Azriel, he must have finished his scouting.

Damnit!

Feyre must have looked up as well and seen him, because when I looked over towards her chair it was empty, and by the time I turned to call for her, she was already through the door and heading down the stairs into the house. A moment later Azriel landed with a soft thud and took a step towards me, but I raised a hand to stop him.

“Wait,” I said quietly and cast my mind down the bond towards Feyre, intent on only sending her a parting shot except… her shields were down and in her mind I could see her thinking about that lingerie store.

It was far too good of an opportunity to pass up.

Slipping inside of her mind I delicately took that thought and began to build on it, weaving together truth and lies until it became a fantasy that she wove her own conscious thought into.

_The shop ladies would have been polite - a bit nervous - and given us privacy as I sat on the settee in the back of the shop while Feyre went behind the curtained-off chamber to try on the red lace set she’d eyed thrice now. And when she emerged, mustering up more bravado than she felt, I would have looked her up and down. Twice._

_And I would have kept staring at her as I informed the shop ladies that the store was closed and they should all come back tomorrow, and we’d leave the tab on the counter._

_Feyre would have stood there, naked save for scraps of red lace, while we listened to the quick, discreet sounds of them closing up and leaving._

_And I would have looked at her the entire time - at her breasts, visible through the lace; at the plane of her stomach, now finally looking less starved and taut. At the sweep of her hips and thighs - between them. Then I would have met her gaze again, and crooked a finger with a single murmured, “Come here.”_

_And she would have walked to me, aware of every step, as she at last stopped in front of where I sat. Between my legs._

_My hands would have slid to her waist, my calluses scraping her skin. Then I would have tugged her a bit closer before leaning in to brush a kiss to her navel, my tongue-_

Suddenly the fantasy I had woven together broke off as a flash of pain flared in her mind and I saw through her eyes that she had walked into the post of the stairwell landing. It took her a second to re-organize her thoughts but once she did she realized where those thoughts had come from and I saw her glare down at the eye tattoo on her palm and hiss, both out loud and in her mind as she said, “_Prick.”_

I couldn’t help myself, I chuckled, and withdrew from her mind, feeling her shield slam shut behind me.

Still grinning, I finally looked back at Azriel who looked at me with shock. I ignored his expression and gestured for him to join me. I might have been annoyed at him for interrupting initially, but the way it had played out between Feyre and myself in the end had erased any irritation I had previously and I found myself still in a good mood.

“Did you find anything?” I asked, still grinning like a fool.

“Are you… alright?” He asked, uncertain.

Arching a brow at him I smirked, “Never better.”

He hesitated a moment, then shrugged and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small wooden box, similar in style to the one still resting on the table with the blood rubies, but it had nothing carved on the lid. Some of my good humor melted away as I glanced up towards Azriel, who said nothing, only waited.

Lifting the lid on the box I looked inside to find nestled in a bed of deep blue velvet a white diamond, near to the same size as the blood rubies were. A white diamond, a token of forgiveness. Tucked in the top of the lid was a small white card, and sliding it out I found words written that eased some of the guilt weighing heavily on my heart.

_For the debt that can never be repaid._

Tarquin had recalled my words spoken the night before and had chosen to acknowledge them. My life and Amren’s were still forfeit in the Summer Court, but Feyre had an official pardon.

He truly was a good fae, honest and kind.

I would always owe him for this.

Smiling, I shut the box and set it on the table, then leaned back in my chair, staring up at the brilliant night sky.

“Azriel, I want to organize shipments of materials, every couple of weeks, with building supplies and food, to be sent to Summer Court. They’ll need to be left just inside the border with no indication that they’re from here.”

Azriel said nothing for a long time, and we sat in silence, both of us taking in the radiance of the stars.

“She’s good for you,” he finally said, breaking the silence between us.

I couldn’t help but smile in response, because there were no truer words that had ever been spoken.

“Yes.”

\- - - ~*~ - - -

A few hours later I found my way to bed, thoroughly exhausted, though I had briefly considered going downstairs to join Feyre and Mor. I could hear them chatting, but Feyre sounded so content and happy that I didn't want to interfere, besides I knew Mor loved having time alone with Feyre.

Stripping out of my leathers I tossed them into the basket then crossed into my bathroom and drew a bath. I didn’t linger, I could feel myself beginning to succumb to my exhaustion, so I scrubbed down quickly before climbing out and drying off. Having spent the last of my energy I fell into bed naked and settled onto my side, my wings tucked up behind me and my face buried into my pillow. If I’d had the energy to hope that my exhaustion would insure that no dreams could follow me, my hopes would have been in vain.

_The large cavernous room was dark, but there was enough light to see the deep pit in front of me. I didn’t want to look inside the pit, instinctually I knew that looking into the pit would crush me, but I didn’t have a choice, it was like I had no control of my own body._

_Taking a small step forward I looked down and I saw them…_

_Cassian, Azriel, Morrigan, Amren… and Feyre. They were all there, chained to the floor of the pit. Able to stand but unable to escape._

_They looked up at me, their eyes wide and desperate and called to me._

_“Rhys! Rhys!”_

_“I’m coming! I’ll save you!” I screamed back and tried to take another step, but couldn’t move. I tried to summon my power, but it didn’t come. I tried to extend my wings, but they were gone._

_And then the water began to fill the pit, pouring in over the top and filling the dark pit faster and faster._

_“Rhys! Rhys we can’t get free!”_

_“You did this.”_

_I froze at those words, at that voice. Turning my head I saw her. Amarantha. Cascading red hair and playful smirk, dressed in a flowing white gown. She walked towards me and wrapped her arms around me, making my skin crawl. She pressed her red lips to my ear and whispered, almost lovingly._

_“You did this to them Rhysand, you promised to keep them safe but you damned them instead.”_

_I tried to pull away from her, but I was frozen in her arms._

_“Rhys! Help us!” I heard Mor scream._

_I was shaking with rage and fear._

_“Look at them Rhysand, you did this to them, now watch.”_

_I couldn’t look away, the water just kept climbing, it was already to Amren’s waist and she was the shortest out of all of them, she would be the first to be covered…_

_“Let them go!” I screamed, “Let them go and take me! It’s my fault!”_

_Amarantha just laughed and slid her hands over my body, caressing me as a lover would._

_The water had reached Amren’s shoulders now, and her silver eyes were wide and afraid, I had never seen her look afraid before, and nothing could scare me more. She was the most powerful creature I had ever met, and if she was afraid then there was no hope for us, for anyone._

_I tried harder, tried to reach that part of me where my power lived, I tried pulling on it, summoning it to my call, tried to will it to do _something.

_Nothing happened._

_Amarantha had my power, because I was an idiot, because I chose revenge over trusting my friends, and now they were going to die. All of them._

_It was my fault._

_The water was at Amren’s neck and she had tilted her head back to try and keep breathing._

_I was panting hard, desperate breaths, and I could no longer hear my friends cries for me. All I could hear was Amarantha’s voice in my ears._

_“You killed them… you betrayed them Rhysand… this is your fault…”_

_The water slipped over the top of Amren’s head and she thrashed beneath it, trying to breath, desperate for air._

_Next to Amren was Feyre, she was the next shortest and the water was to her shoulders, before long she would be under it as well._

_“Please!” I screamed, “Please stop this!”_

“Rhysand.”

_I heard Feyre’s voice, but though her eyes were wide and terrified, her voice was… calm. Edged with concern, but not for her. For me._

“Rhysand,”_ I heard her say again, her voice a little more frantic, but it didn’t match the look in her eyes. I didn’t have time to figure out why that was, the water was reaching her neck now._

_“Please, I’ll do anything you want! Anything just let them go! Let _her_ go!” I cried out again, my throat hoarse with screaming._

_Amarantha continued to cackle, her fingers tracing patterns over my chest._

“Rhysand!” _Feyre’s voice finally sounded desperate, it matched the look in her eyes, the desperate fear as the water hit her jaw and she had to tilt her head back to breath._

_Amarantha’s hand slid up and gripped my jaw, her nails digging into my cheek. “Watch Rhysand, watch her die. You did this to her, it’s your fault. Watch.”_

_I watched as the water slid over her head, trapping her beneath it, and I watched as she began to thrash, desperate to breath. I felt the bond between us growing taut, as though she was being pulled away from me._

_She was dying and it was my fault._

_I _screamed_ in rage and everything in me exploded as I grabbed Amarantha and slammed her into the wall, pinning her against it with my hand around her throat… but something stopped me from squeezing, something stopped me from choking the life out of her._

“Rhysand.”_ I heard Amarantha say, but with Feyre’s voice, calm and gentle. Kind._

_I felt myself tremble, rage and confusion warring inside of me as I stared into Amarantha’s eyes. Why wasn’t I killing her?_

Rhys.

_I heard my name echo down the bond I shared with Feyre… Feyre. She was dead, I watched her die, watched her drown. How was she talking to me?_

“It was a dream,”_ Amarantha said, still using Feyre’s voice. _“It was a dream.”

_A dream?A… A dream._

_The edges of my vision began to fade and change, the oppressive darkness of the cavern transitioned into the cool, star flecked darkness of my power. The harsh stone walls of the cavern melted away until they became the soft sheets of my bed._

_And trapped beneath my clawed hand, Amarantha disappeared, her red hair turning golden brown, her black eyes brightening into gray-blue, so brilliant and kind and concerned._

“Feyre,” _the once form of Amarantha said, _“I’m Feyre.”

_But how could she be? Feyre… Feyre was dead. And yet, as her fingers wrapped around my wrist, I felt the shock of electricity I always felt when she touched me._

_She looked like Feyre, felt like her… and her power, her darkness that was my own, I could feel it brushing against me, so soothing, like a lullaby._

“You were dreaming,” s_he said calmly, her gaze remaining locked on mine, a beacon, a safe harbor, calling me home._

_A dream? Had… had it all been a dream?_

_I stared and stared at her and felt my heaving breaths begin to ease. I… I needed to be sure. I needed to see her better, it was too dark, I needed to see her in the light. With a low exhale I let my power subside, drawing it back inside of myself, and as soon as the darkness faded moonlight filled my bedroom._

_And then I saw her._

_Feyre. She _was_ my Feyre._

_Swallowing hard I whispered her name, my voice hoarse, as though the screaming I had done in my dream had been real._

“Feyre.”

“Yes,” she said calmly.

And just like that, my world centered itself. She was real, she was alive, she was here, with me, in my bed - with my hand around her throat.

Immediately I released her.

Reaching up with both hands I rubbed my face, trying to dispel the remnants of the terrible dream that lurked on the outskirts of my mind. Somewhat to my surprise Feyre didn’t try and get up to leave, though I did feel her eyes examining me. Were it any other time I would have teased her about it, but my heart was too bruised to try.

“You were having a nightmare,” she said softly, then went quiet again, giving me the time and space to settle into myself.

Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly, and realized that I had partially transformed into my beast-self, a form I loathed. Dropping my hands from my face I let them rest against my bare thighs as I met her gaze again.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, and shifted my body back into my purely fae form, though I kept my wings out. Having lost them in the dream I was desperate to feel their comforting weight behind me.

“That’s why you’re staying here, not at the House,” Feyre said quietly, studying my face as though seeing me with new eyes. “You don’t want the others seeing this.”

I swallowed and said simply, “I normally keep it contained to my room. I’m sorry it woke you.”

Her hands fisted in her lap and her brows furrowed, as though concentrating hard. “How often does it happen?”

I studied her face, and I knew she already guessed the answer, before I even spoke it out loud. “As often as you.”

She swallowed hard and lowered her eyes to her lap for a moment before finally looking up at me and asked, nearly in a whisper. “What did you dream of tonight?”

The images flashed through my head, the sight of the water flooding in, of her and Amren thrashing beneath it, the touch of Amarantha on my skin, her words whispered in my ear…

I shook my head and looked away from her to the window, trying to banish the images by taking in the sight of my beautiful city, alive and thriving, snow dusting the street and the rooftops, so lovely in the moonlight.

“There are memories from Under the Mountain, Feyre, that are best left unshared. Even with you.”

She was quiet for a long moment, and I relaxed further, enjoying the feeling of her close by and safe.

The touch of her hand on my elbow sent a shock of warmth through my body, it was only then that I realized I was naked, and a little cold.

“When you want to talk, let me know,” she said softly, her voice tinged with understanding that only someone who had survived the horrors of the Mountain could. “I won’t tell the others.”

Then I felt her begin to slid out of my bed and I panicked, I didn’t want her to leave. I didn’t want to be alone. My hand shot out and grabbed hers, keeping it against my arm, keeping the warmth she offered against me.

Swallowing, I looked at her, held her gaze, and it was on the tip of my tongue, to beg her to stay with me, for the night.

Forever.

But… the image of her drowning haunted me, and the words Amarantha had whispered in my ear terrified me.

My fault.

I couldn’t tell her, not yet, not tonight.

Instead I said quietly, “Thank you.”

She looked at me, her eyes studying my face, taking me in - it was the first time I let her, let anyone, see the truth beneath the mask I showed the world.

I was broken. Shattered. The time Under the Mountain had ravaged me. There were moments when I wasn’t sure I could ever recover from what had happened to me in that darkness.

Yet Feyre did not flinch or recoil from me, from what she saw on my face. Instead I watched her push up onto her knees and lean forward, pressing her soft lips against my cheek. She was so warm and soft and smelled of snow and pine, and she felt like home.

I closed my eyes and breathed in, truly breathed in, and it felt like the first breath I had experienced since we escaped the mountain.

Her kiss felt like a benediction.

As she began to pull away I looked at her, wide eyed and surprised at the gift she had bestowed upon me.

Saying nothing else, she slid from my bed and walked to the door, I watched her leave before I dropped my head and closed my eyes.

_My fault._

The words swirled through my mind, but the echo of Feyre’s lips on my cheek, the blessing it bestowed, banished the darkness of the nightmare.

It had been my fault, but _we_ would make it right. Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you have a minute or two to leave a kudos or comment I would really appreciate it.
> 
> I am still relatively new to writing fan fiction and I would love any critiques you can throw my way, good or bad.
> 
> Thank you so much! - Otter
> 
> P.S. The chapter title came to me from A Debt of Bones by Terry Goodkind - one of my all time favorite authors.


	7. Fat Bottomed Girls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: If you have not read A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas I strongly suggest you go read it first - it's undoubtedly better written and what I have written will spoil the book for you.
> 
> I am re-writing all of ACOMAF from Rhysand's perspective, using all of the original characters/scenes/dialogue, and adding in new bits and bobs to flesh his story out more.
> 
> This Section:  
Ch. 1 - Rhysand, Feyre and Amren head to the Summer Court (New scenes)  
Ch. 2 - Dinner on the barge, and Rhysand spends time with Cresseida (New scenes)  
Ch. 3 - Rhysand and Tarquin bargain, then Rhysand has a private chat with Feyre (Several new scenes)  
Ch. 4 - Dinner with Tarquin and the location of the Book  
Ch. 5 - Stealing the Book (Several new scenes)  
Ch. 6 - Blood Rubies and nightmares (Several new scenes)  
Ch. 7 - Waiting for the Queens to respond (Several new scenes)  
CH. 8 - A/N: An apology and update on health and writing
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> *Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.

I was unable to sleep for the rest of the night, but I remained in bed, my eyes trained on the light the moon cast on the floor, then later on the wall as the hours ticked by. Despite my thoughts, my body was relaxed, and by the time the sun just crested the mountains I actually felt marginally rested - enough so to tackle, while not my most tedious task of the day, at the very least the most volatile.

It was time inform Amren of the blood rubies.

And I knew it was going to take every bit of my considerable charm to keep her calm when she saw them, and I was not looking forward to the tongue lashing she was about to bestow on me. Truthfully, the only thing cheering me up as I made my way across the sleepy city towards Amren’s apartment was the memory of the kiss Feyre had given me. Even hours later I could still feel the press of her lips on my skin and the warmth that spread through my body from it.

Smiling ruefully, I tried not to let the smile become a grimace as I approached Amren’s door and hesitated in front of it. I was a warrior, I had walked into battles where I knew the likely outcome would, at best, be death, without an ounce of fear. I had stood before the yawning darkness of the Prison without a speck of trepidation. Standing in front of Amren’s door, preparing to tell her that she was marked for death by the Summer Court?

Yep, terrified.

Taking a breath, I raised a hand and knocked once, and before I could lower my hand the door clicked upon an inch. Hardly a warm welcome, but that wasn’t entirely unusual with Amren. Pushing the door open I stepped inside and shut it behind me, walking further into her loft apartment.

“Rhysand,” I heard Amren greet me, even as she sat on the floor before a spread of papers, leaning over the Book, staring at it intently.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I studied her work, understanding very little of the strange symbols.

“Hows it coming?”

Amren didn’t spare me a glance, though she did snort, “You know exactly how this is coming Rhysand. You knew this was a dead, or at the very least, a lost language, and you knew that while I was the only being likely alive in this world capable of translating it, that it would take time for me to do so.” She finally lifted her head, her short black hair swaying as she pierced me with her silver gaze. “You also knew if there was anything for me to tell you that I would have come to you immediately. Which means you are here, bothering me, for another reason. Get on with it.”

I couldn’t help but smile - Amren was my First for many reasons, but the one I appreciated the most was the fact that she rarely let me get away with being foolish for long. Shaking my head, I walked over to stand in front of her while reaching into my pocket-realm and withdrawing the first wooden box from last night, and setting it on the floor in front of her.

“This arrived yesterday, Azriel delivered it to me.”

Amren reached across the Book and flipped the lid of the box open, then leaned back, staring at the blood rubies. For a brief second, fury burned hotly in her eyes, and then just like that, it disappeared - which honestly scared me more.

“Amren, I know this is likely-“

“Rhysand I am not going to raze their little city,” she interrupted me as she looked up at me with a playful smirk.

I just stared at her.

Her smirk widened as she leaned over to pluck one of the blood rubies out of the velvet cushion it sat on.

“I will however, be keeping mine. It will make an excellent paperweight.”

I just continued to stare at her, completely confused.

Finally, no longer amused with me, Amren sighed. “Rhysand, we already have the role of the strong, silent warrior in the group filled by Azriel. Get on with it already, I have worked to do.”

“Why… aren’t you livid?” I managed to finally ask, but continued before she could answer. “I came here expecting to have to spend hours convincing you not to kill everyone in the Summer Court, and here you are, teasing me - honestly Amren, I’m concerned for your health.”

Amren turned her gaze back down to the Book, but I could see the hint of a playful grin on her lips. “I got a better offer.”

Well that only served to concern me more.

“Amren… what? I don’t understand, what better offer?”

With a flick of her hand she gestured towards her bed, where another wooden box sat, the lid open, revealing a rather startlingly beautiful necklace made from gold with diamonds and rubies. I frowned, further confused, but fortunately Amren chose to be merciful.

“That arrived late last night, along with a note - while not a pardon, it was… convincing. I won’t be attacking the Summer Court over their silly blood rubies in the near future Rhysand, you can put your worries to rest. Now will you leave and let me work?”

I let out a little laugh and shook my head, before turning and heading towards the door. I was curious about the note that came with the necklace to convince Amren to mercy, but I knew better than question her on it - I had escaped one tongue lashing already, I had no intention of antagonizing a different one out of her unnecessarily. When I was at the door, about to open it, I heard Amren speak up.

“I am however disappointed in Tarquin, of course he had to issue three blood rubies publicly, but I thought he would rescind the one issued to Feyre.” I turned to glance back towards Amren, her gaze meeting mine, and there I saw the missing fury from earlier, burning hotly in her silver eyes. “I thought him a better male than that.”

“You weren’t incorrect in your original assessment,” I said quietly and watched her sit straight and arch a brow. With a brief gesture of my hand, I summoned the second wooden box from my pocket-realm and made it appear in front of her.

She plucked it up and opened it, examining the diamond, then read the note and let out a little laugh. “Imagine that - for once our high expectations were met. Will wonders never cease?” She closed the box and looked back towards me.

Opening the door, I stepped outside before glancing back at her and smiling. “I fervently hope not. I hope this is only a beginning.”

\- - - ~*~ - - -

After leaving Amren’s place I made my way up to the House of Wind - it was more than a little early, but this played well into my plans. I wanted to catch Cassian before he headed back to the Illyrian mountains, fully intent on joining him to conduct a few surprise inspections on the war camps. It was good practice for me to drop in from time-to-time to reinforce his commands and my own. Besides, I felt the call to be outside after nearly a week cooped up in negotiations that were now entirely moot. Regret surged through me for a moment, and I let out a long sigh as I made my way through the stone halls towards the kitchen were I knew Cassian would likely be.

A moment later I caught the sounds of a conversation and listened in shamelessly as I reached the doorway.

“…Azriel is pissed about it,” Mor said with a sigh.

Cassian snorted, “Of course he is, but there isn’t anything he can do about it right now.”

“I know, I just wish he wouldn’t get so worked up about it, it’s not his fault…”

I stepped into the kitchen and asked, a bit louder than necessary, while grinning mischievously. “What isn’t Azriel’s fault?”

Mor jumped, and turned, glaring at me sharply. “Rhys! You ass!”

Cassian barked out a laugh as I winked at her, walking over to the pot of tea and pouring myself a cup.

“What isn’t Azriel’s fault?” I asked again as I plopped a cube of sugar in my cup, stirred, then lifted it to drink.

Mor sat back on her stool, still glaring at me as Cassian spoke up to answer me, “He’s still had no luck with the Queen’s palace.”

No longer glaring but instead now frowning, Mor said quietly, “It’s almost becoming an obsession with him.”

I sighed and took another sip of my tea. I had told Azriel that we didn’t need to worry about the palace just yet, that we should wait and I would try later if it came to it. I should have known that anything less than a direct order wouldn’t stop him from still trying.

“Well, it’s the first real challenge he’s had an a century or two, so it’s not entirely unsurprising,” I finally said. “My question instead, is he going alone?”

Both Mor and Cassian nodded, unhappily. Of course he was. Sighing I set my cup down and rubbed the back of my neck, thinking - I could order him to stop but I rarely gave such direct orders to my Inner Circle unless absolutely necessary. Besides, that wouldn’t stop his obsession, it would just drive him crazier except from a distance. However if I sent him somewhere else that required all of his focus instead…

“Hybern,” I said, looking up to meet their gazes. “I know you and Azriel have done some preliminary scouting,” I said, nodding towards Cassian, “but I could send him to do more in depth scouting. It will at least force him to take a day or two break from the Queen’s palace.”

Mor snorted, “Oh yea, like Hybern is safer.”

I smirked at her, “Would you rather I ask him to go tend sheep?”

Cassian laughed and grinned, “He’s got a point Mor. Azriel doesn’t do safe, and you know that, but at least he will likely be more successful with Hybern and he won’t plunge off the deep end for a few days.”

Mor’s shoulders slumped slightly then she blew out her breath and nodded, “You’re right. Do you want me to tell him?”

I shook my head, “No, I’ll send him a message, it will be better coming from me. It will look a little less like we’re trying to manage him.” I made my way towards the kitchen door, “Cassian I’m going with you to Illyria today. Meet me on the roof in ten minutes?”

“Sounds good,” he called to me as I walked down the hall and then up the stairs, winding around to my office. I walked over to my desk and found a clean sheet of paper and quickly wrote a message to Nuala, then winnowed it into the kitchen of the townhouse.

A few minutes later, Nuala appeared, gliding up through the floor, which was still just as disconcerting now as it had been the first time I saw her do it. Settling her feet firmly on the ground that she had just glided through, she smiled at me kindly, “High Lord, you need me to carry a message?”

Smiling at her in return I nodded, “I need you to find Azriel. Likely at this point he is checking in with his network, so you may need to do some backtracking to find him.”

“Of course, that won’t be a problem,” she replied calmly. “What is the message?”

Though I absolutely trusted Nuala, it was still imperative for me to be discreet, because Cauldron forbid she was kidnapped I could not risk anyone gaining too much information. “Just tell him ‘Hybern’, he will understand.”

She nodded, unperturbed by the short message and gave me another smile, “Very well High Lord, I will let him know.” Bowing her head to me, both her and Cerridwen were still always so very formal with me outside of the townhouse, but after so long it hardly bothered me anymore. I watched her leave and stood from where I had leaned back against my desk, preparing to head up to the roof when a thought struck me.

Turning back to my desk I pulled another clean sheet of parchment to me and bent over, writing a short note.

_Thank you - for last night._

Weaving in a touch of my darkness, I honestly didn’t expect a response from her, but I might as well make it possible for her to respond just in case. Then I winnowed it to the townhouse, to Feyre’s bedside table, then made my way up to the roof.

I found Cassian leaning against the railing that wrapped around the outer edge of the roof, sharpening the edge of one of his daggers while he waited for me. “Everything set?”

Coming up to stand beside him I looked over the edge of the railing down towards the city, watching the rising sun beginning to catch on the brilliantly colored buildings making them almost start to glow. “Yes, Nuala will find him and pass on the message.”

“Good, he needs to focus on something else, it might clear his mind and let him come up with a different approach.”

Something about the tone of his voice made me think he wasn’t just talking about Azriel. Shifting to the side, I watched as he continued to make slow, steady passes with his sharpening stone over the edge of his blade.

“Yes,” I said slowly, “A clear mind and a new approach is often useful. Do you have a suggestion, old warrior?”

Cassian glanced at me and smirked, making one more pass with his sharpening stone, then pocketed it and sheathed his dagger. “Oh I have a few, but I doubt you have a clear enough head to consider them. You’re mind’s too full up to listen.” He smiled briefly before he continued, “Not that I’m complaining, I’d rather your mind be full with her, than the darkness you came back with, old friend.”

I stared at him with shock and amusement, unsure of how to respond.

He just grinned at me then stood up straight, flaring and stretching his wings before tucking them in tight against his back. “Well then, ready to go?”

I shook my head with bemusement then lifted my hand, waiting until he gripped my wrist to summon my darkness, wrapping it around us and casting us out into the high mountains of Illyria.

The next few hours were spent being either amused or nearly overwhelmed with rage, and completely unable to express either emotion. The only break for me came when a few hours after we arrived I felt a tickling sensation down my spine which I recognized as the feeling of writing on one of the pieces of paper I had woven a touch of my darkness into. Raising my hand I gestured for the camp lord Arvon to be silent, ignoring the angry glare he cast on me for being interrupted during his tirade, then reached out, winnowing the paper to me as soon as the tickling sensation ended. A second later the sheet of paper arrived in my hand and I unfolded it to read, first, the thank you I had left Feyre in the early morning, followed by a question, written in her slightly inelegant scrawl.

_What do the tattooed stars and mountain on your knees mean?_

I stared at the question unseeing for several long moments until I felt Cassian shift beside me. Shaking my head once, I glanced up to find everyone staring at me expectantly and folded the letter again, tucking it into a pocket before returning my attention to the camp lord.

“I hear what you’re saying, but I don’t give a damn what you think Arvon. The reason behind these laws has been explained to you more than once, but fine, I will give you one last reason, and this is the very last time I will be so kind as to explain.” I stared into his eyes, letting him understand the implied threat - next time there would be a cost for him questioning my or Cassian’s orders. “There is war coming and we may very well need every able bodied person, male and female, to win. Even if the females aren’t trained enough for open warfare, they can be trained better to defend the camps in leu of male defenders.” I gestured sharply to the camp where the sounds of boys and men practicing rang out, “This is their home too, why shouldn’t they be able to defend it as well? Do your women, your wives and daughters mean so little to you that if you are off at war you would be content for them to be stolen?” I held his gaze steadily as I watched both Arvon and his men’s faces darken with anger at me and my words.

I knew that while they held little value for their women outside of their basic expectations of how a woman should serve their needs, they did see their women as property, and these savage warriors would challenge anyone and anything who dared try and take their property away from them. It was a backwards way of thinking and while I and my Inner Circle detested the Illyrians for treating their women this way, the truth was that many of the Illyrian women held pride for their way of life and were as rebellious as the men for being told they must now learn to fight. We were fighting a war of attrition against thousands of years of backwards traditions, and any high ground we held was tenuous at best, but each of us was steadfast in our decision to fight. Patience was the key, patience and unbreakable will, because the camp lords would not hesitate to try and break the law each and every time our backs were turned, which was why unplanned visits such as these were absolutely necessary.

Finally Arvon let out a low growl before gesturing sharply to his first in command and saying harshly, “Get the girls in the ring.” Then he turned sharply and began to stalk off in an act of blatant disrespect. I could honestly care less if Arvon respected me or not, so long as he obeyed - but I could not let his disrespect stand when his men and half the camp were watching.

A tongue lashing would accomplish nothing, in fact it would be perceived as weak. Attacking with a weapon would be the manner of settling a dispute in Illyria - but it posed it’s own problems. Arvon was a solid fighter, he wouldn’t have lasted long as a camp lord if he wasn’t, but he wasn’t nearly as good as I was and I was fifty years out of practice. And in truth, a fight with me would actually work against us, it would discredit him when he lost and soon he would be taken out and some new cocky bastard would claim his title and we would have to start all over again, proving to them why they must submit to us.

It could set back the progress of this camp by decades.

So in truth, my only option to remind him of his proper place in the pecking order, was to use my power against them. I was their High Lord and I would use every tool at my disposal to remind them that they owed their allegiance to me. With barely a twitch of my finger I summoned my darkness and commanded it, wrapping it around Arvon’s throat and squeezing while, lifting slightly so that he was balanced precariously on his toes and beginning to choke. Gasps broke out among his men and then angry yelling, the warriors drawing their weapons in response to the threat I posed, and yet not one of them pointed their weapons at me.

Of course not - they knew the price of such treason.

Clasping my hands behind my back, I walked through the group of warriors, disregarding them and their weapons, until I was standing between them and the camp. Behind me Arvon continued to choke, I could hear his desperate gasps for air, the only sound other than the wind in the camp. The camp had frozen, the boys and the men in the training rings had stopped practicing and had turned to face me, the women and small children previously focused on camp chores had drawn back into their tents and huts, barely peeking out in terror of me.

This was not the kind of High Lord I had ever wanted to be, one who ruled through terror and might of power - and yet, in Illyria, it was the kind of High Lord I sometimes _had_ to be. It made me sick.

But I would not bow to these brutal savages and their backwards traditions.

I would not betray the memory of my mother and her spirit.

“I have been exceptionally patient with you Arvon. I understand that I am commanding you to break a long held tradition, and I understand you might be afraid.” My words were cool and shaped as weapons no less deadly than a sword in my hand would have been. To claim an Illyrian was afraid was the worst insult I could have said to him. “However I will not tolerate your disrespect. Your life, your men’s lives, your women and children’s lives - they are mine. Mine to command, mine to protect… mine to collect if you break my law again.”

I turned and gestured with my hand, releasing the darkness that choked Arvon and held him in the air, letting him fall and stumble, just barely keeping on his feet as he gasped hard, trying to fill his longs with air. I watched him calmly, until he finally met my gaze, hatred and fear burning in his hazel eyes. I could feel how every instinct in his body screamed at him to attack me, to fight, to kill, to savage and destroy me, because I felt it too, half Illyrian that I was, I wanted to claim my victory through blood.

For the space of several heart beats the blood and challenge surged through our veins as I waited to see if I would be forced to kill him; but for once Arvon thought with his brain.

“My apologies, High Lord,” he rasped and gave a small bow of his head, a sign of his respect and his submission. For now.

I waited until his men re-sheathed their weapons, keeping my eyes on him and my back to the camp. Finally I gestured, “See that the girls are in the ring within an hour. You are dismissed.”

Another bow of his head then Arvon led his men away. I glanced towards Cassian who grinned viciously and winked at me. His jovial mood eased some of the roiling sickness in my gut - I had never wanted to mimic my father and yet I found sometimes I had little choice.

“Well,” Cassian said as he walked towards me, “that was fun to watch.”

I shook my head, smirking slightly as my thoughts returned to the note from Feyre, “I’m glad I could amuse you. Come on, let’s go to the tavern, I need to find a flat surface to write on.”

Cassian arched a brow but surprisingly didn’t ask anything before we began to wind our way through the camp while he pointed to various things from his reports. The camp had once again resumed its activities but far more subdued than before, and all of the women and children remained hidden. Upon reaching the tavern, a squat though well kept building, we entered quietly and made our way to a back corner. For all that we entered quietly we might as well have busted in yelling and flashing our weapons, for every warrior in the tavern turned to stare at us with anger and distrust, and sadly we were so used to it that we ignored it, except to keep a wary eye out for threats.

“So,” Cassian began while we claimed a small table, “what did she say that distracted you so badly?”

Sitting with my back to the wall, I glanced at him then fished the note from my pocket and handed it to him. I watched as he unfolded it, reading first my message, which raised his brows in curiosity, then watched as he read her question which made his brows draw tight in suspicion.

“Hmm… I could tease you about what put the two of you in a position where she could see those tattoos, but I’m going to guess you are hardly in the mood for that right now.” Handing the note back to me he asked, “Are you going to answer her?”

I leaned back in my chair and took the note back from him, studying her letters, proud to see how far she had come from being almost completely illiterate just a month or so ago.

“Yes I’m going to answer, she has only just begun to really ask questions, and I’m not going to withhold answers from her the way he did. There’s no great secret about them anyways.” I shrugged, then leaned forward and opened my pocket realm, summoning a pen to my hand.

Cassian leaned forward as well, folding his hands on the table in front of him. “No, it’s not a secret, but it is…. special to you. Perhaps the only gift your father gave you that you ever truly found value in.”

I glanced at him, my pen hovering over the page, and smiled briefly. “True, and all the better to share with her I think.”

Cassian snorted then gestured for the bar keep as I pressed the tip of the pen to the page and wrote, what appeared to be, a simple response. Yet I knew it would make her think - because I had bowed to Amarantha, submitted and subjugated myself to her every whim. So if I were to do that, what then did my crown represent? I wanted, no, needed her to truly understand the weight of such power and responsibility.

_That I will bow before no one and nothing but my crown._

Studying my words for a minute, I then folded the note in half again and reached down the bond, finding her at the townhouse and winnowed the note and the pen beside her. I thought about the interaction with Arvon, running my decisions through the lenses of the words I had written to her. I could not bow to the traditions of the Illyrians, not when the women and bastards were denied so many rights, because my crown meant that I must protect and enrich their lives, as well as honor the traditions that made the Illyrians who they were. It was a fine line, between giving them a better life, and being no better than the males in the camps who stole their rights from them.

While I sunk deeper into my thoughts, Cassian managed to get the eye of the tavern keeper who unwillingly came over and provided us with two mugs of beer and a platter of bread and cheese before leaving without a word. Cassian dug in, giving me the space to try and sort out my thoughts, or at the very least, he was too busy eating to pay me any mind. It wasn’t until I felt the tickle along my spine again that I came up for air and quickly winnowed the note back into my hand. Unfolding it, I read her words, and began to laugh.

_So dramatic._

I could just imagine the look on her face as she wrote those words, sarcastic and almost playful, the corner of her mouth peaked up in a smirk. I shook my head, still chuckling, when the note was torn out of my hands.

“What could she have possibly written to make you laugh?”

Glancing up at Cassian I grinned as he read her two word reply, a look of shock on his face. When he finally looked back up at me he slowly grinned.

“Damn Rhysand, I like this girl a lot. If she can draw you out of your moping with two words, I hope she sticks around.”

Despite the teasing nature of his words I heard the implicit honesty behind them, yet what sent the cold shiver of dread trickling down my spine was his hope that she stayed. Blowing out a slow breath, most of my humor gone, I still managed a vague sort of smile before saying softly, “Me too.”

\- - - ~*~ - - -

The following weeks were spent in what became a routine so pleasant it still shocked me each time I thought on it.

Every morning Feyre and I would break our fast together, often alone, though occasionally the others would join us. In the beginning Feyre was often stiff and a little sore from the rigorous practice sessions Cassian put her through each day, but over time her body adjusted, becoming stronger and more agile. And I was never more delighted than to watch her pile food on her plate and devour each morsel with absent minded abandon. I watched as her curves filled out and her muscles became defined. She had always been beautiful to me, but I was finally beginning to see her truly healthy and it both warmed me and filled me with rage to think back on Tamlin. How could he have not seen her before? She had been skin and bones, her nightmares stripping her bare, and he had ignored it, ignored her. He had been content to let her die slowly in front of him.

I tried not to think on that often, lest my anger begin to tear me apart as well.

Nearly every day I would fly Feyre up to the House for practice, joining in as much as I could, though sometimes my duties took me elsewhere. In the afternoons, when possible, I would focus on helping Feyre learn to navigate her powers, both mental and elemental. Remembering how Feyre had been startled by the destruction in the Summer Court because her knowledge of the other courts had been limited, I also taught her about their history and politics. At first she had seemed hesitant to ask questions, simply allowing me to talk, but over time she began to ask me things, wanting clarification or specific details. She drank the knowledge up as though parched for water, and it shocked me when she sometimes made a connection I had not yet told her, and always her witty commentary made me laugh.

She still never smiled.

I often worried whether she was happy here, my mind casting back to the moment with the Attor and her claim that Velaris was not her home. Though she never made to leave the townhouse for a place of her own, or talked of leaving Velaris in general, she never seemed truly settled. On the rare occasion that I saw inside her bedroom she had never made any changes to it, except for a new book or two on her desk.

It worried me.

In the evenings, those we did not spend with our friends, either chatting around dinner or going out to Rita’s - though Feyre often tried to bow out those nights that Mor tried to drag us out to dance, we spent together in the sitting room. Sometimes we talked, she would occasionally tell me stories of her childhood, but more often she would ask me about my life, about my time in the Illyrian camps, of the War, of my own childhood. I was careful with what I told her, there were truths I was not ready to divulge, and memories I was often afraid to revisit, and she never pushed. Sometimes we would spend the night reading, stretched out before the fire, glasses of wine at our elbows and books spread out before us. One night, after a particularly difficult training session that left her battered and exhausted, she had asked me to read to her.

“You want me to read to you?” I asked, amused.

She had stretched out across the couch, her head on a pillow, an arm across her eyes.

“You’re going to read anyways, why not just read it out loud?” She said, a little too logically.

My stomach twisted, something about her request pleased me, spreading warmth through me. It dawned on me then that it was likely the first time she had ever asked me to do something for her. Unable to deny her request, I lifted the book and found my place on the page.

“Down and down she went, her breath thick in the frigid air.” I read out loud, my eyes tracing along the neat lines of text. “Water dripped somewhere, and Celaena looked longingly at the middle archway as she approached the crossroads. There was no thought of escape now. What would be the point, when she was so close to winning?”

I glanced up to look at Feyre, she hadn’t moved, and I couldn’t really tell if she was still awake. I decided to go on for a bit longer, then I would ask if she was still listening.

“If she lost, she’d sneak back here before they had a chance to ship her off to Endovier again. Celaena studied the left - and the right-side passages. The one to her left only led to a dead end. But the one to her right… that was the passage she’d taken to Elan’s tomb. There she’d seen countless other passageways leading to unknown places. She stepped…”

Movement caught my eye and I saw Feyre’s arm that had been splayed over her eyes slide down, falling towards the floor and hanging there. Her breathing had slowed and her eyes were still shut, and I knew she had finally fallen asleep. I slowly closed my book and quietly sat it on the low table in front of me, then leaned back to watch her sleep. The lines of her face had smoothed out, and once again she looked so much younger in her sleep. I was reminded yet again that she was, in terms of a fae life time, nearly still a child. So young, and so broken, and yet so breathtakingly beautiful.

I wanted to sit there the whole night, watching her sleep, but I knew that the couch was likely uncomfortable for such an endeavor. With a low sigh, I slid from my chair and crossed over to her. Bending down, I slid my arms beneath her knees and under her back, and gently lifted her. She did not precisely wake up, but she did curl towards me, pressing her face against my chest and taking a deep breath before her body relaxed in my arms. I swallowed hard, my heart racing, and held her closer to me, savoring the weight and warmth of her in my arms.

My Feyre.

_Mine._

Holding her tightly, I carried her up the stairs and to her room, nudging her door open with my foot. Laying her down gently on her bed, I slid her feet beneath her turned down covers, and tucked her in gently. She rolled onto her side, burying her face in her pillow and wrapping her arms around it, pulling it closer. I chuckled quietly, and reached down, tracing one finger along the peak of her exposed ear, feeling her body shiver in response. Smiling, I drew my hand back, then turned off the fae-lamps, before walking from her room and shutting her door.

I honestly could not remember, in the full length of my life, a night where I had been happier.

That night I sat at my desk in my room, and composed a new letter. We had been waiting weeks for a response from the mortal Queens, and had yet to hear a word. I had written several other letters, but this night I chose to write a different sort of letter. A letter born of happiness. Of hope.

_I write to you not as a High Lord, but as a male in love with a woman who was once human. I write to you to beg you act quickly. To save her people - to help save my own. I write to you so one day we might know true peace. So I might one day be able to live in a world where the woman I love may visit her family without fear of hatred and reprisal. A better world._

The next day I gave the sealed letter to Cassian to carry to Feyre’s sisters for it to be sent, and knew all our hopes truly rested in those words. If the Queen’s could not be convinced by truth or love, then force would be the next action and it could prove nearly as deadly as the war with Hybern likely would.

That depressing thought was instantly improved upon Cassian’s return later that day, his mood soured by having visited Feyre’s sisters. Or rather, one sister in general. At one point, when he and I were alone he growled to me.

“That woman is a bloody menace.”

I grinned at him, “Ah, then she is perfect for you.”

I had to quickly dodge his swing and ducked out of the room, laughing.

\- - - ~*~ - - -

Occasionally there were days where my duties took me far and away from Velaris and I could not return for our afternoon sessions. On those days I craved her presence, unable to even go one day without her by my side, and so I would send her notes, asking her questions, or telling her about my duties. She always responded, and it eased the pain of being so far from her.

It was on one such day that I had to travel to Cesere, to the temple that Hybern’s agents had destroyed. A few of the priestesses had survived and they had requested aid to rebuild. I was still a little annoyed that the priestesses had held a relic of the Cauldron and had not informed me of it, but to some degree I could understand their reasoning. Beyond that however I understood how important the temples were to my people, and I was not so contemptuous as to deny aid to them.

That morning, when I had told Feyre where I was going, she had seemed almost agitated.

“What’s wrong?” I finally asked her, while I watched her fidget in her chair, fiddling with her fork.

She grimaced, then sighed and sat her fork down.

“You told me, about… Ianthe.” She glanced at me under her lashes, then looked away quickly.

I frowned slightly, remembering how I had shared that memory with her, and uncertain why she was bringing it up now.

“Yes… I don’t understand what-“

“Are you going to the temple alone?” She asked me suddenly.

Arching a brow I shook my head, “No, Mor is going with me.” That seemed to relax her a bit, her shoulders dropping slightly. “Feyre, what is the matter? I don’t understand what this has to do with…” It clicked for me then, what her concern was, and I very nearly laughed. Not because I thought her concern silly, but rather because I was shocked she was concerned at all.

Leaning forward I said to her softly, “Feyre, not all priestesses are like Ianthe. In fact, most of them are nothing like her, and would find her actions abhorrent. The ones I will be meeting with today are good, and their only intentions are to rebuild a sacred place to our people.” I smiled as she finally looked at me, her body relaxing further as she leaned back in her chair. She studied my face for a moment, then nodded.

Hours later, when I was at the temple, Mor at my side as we surveyed the wreckage, she was still on my mind. Truthfully, she never left my thoughts, but her concern for my well being had shocked me deeply. I hadn’t been sure that she cared for me at all… I did believe she considered me a friend, but I was uncertain how deeply her concern for me went, and to find out that she did care for me enough to be worried about the people I would be around today… It left my heart racing and my mind spinning.

In all this time, these weeks we had spent together, I had avoided certain topics with her, giving her space and time to heal and find herself again. After this morning however, I wanted to reach out, I wanted to see if she would reach back were I to make a personal overture.

Around noon we took a break in our discussions of supplies and costs, the priestesses providing us food and drink and space to relax for a spell. I left Mor to distract them while I slipped into a small chamber with a desk, summoning paper and a pen, and wrote a simple sentence, before winnowing it to Feyre’s side.

_Tell me about the painting._

For several long, excruciating minutes, I waited, unsure if she would respond at all. Finally I felt the tickle down my spine, and holding my breath, I summoned the paper back to myself and read her response.

_There’s not much to say._

Her sentence wasn’t exactly encouraging, but it wasn’t an outright dismissal. I decided to push her a little, praying I wasn’t going too far.

_Tell me about it anyway._

I sent the note back to her and waited, sitting on the edge of my chair, rolling the pen back and forth between my fingers as I waited. The minutes ticked by, and the longer I waited the more nervous I became. Finally however, I felt the tickle down my spine, signaling she was writing, though it took her a while to finish, as though she was carefully picking out her words. _Mother above_, I prayed, _please let this note not be a carefully crafted letter telling me to go to hell._

Finally, _finally_, I felt her stop writing and I summoned the note to me again, opening it, and reading slowly.

_There was a time when all I wanted was enough money to keep me and my family fed so that I could spend my days painting. That was all I wanted. Ever._

I swallowed hard, staring at her words. It had been all she wanted then… what now did she want?

_And now?_

I wrote, my hands very nearly shaking, before I returned the note to her. A second later I summoned it back to read her next sentence.

_Now, I don’t know what I want. I can’t paint anymore._

I had seen, briefly, images of her paintings, in my dreams… and hers. They had been beautiful and stirring, splashes of color and emotion. Had she truly lost that side of her? Had the time Under the Mountain stole it from her? I didn’t want to believe that.

_Why?_

I wrote and sent it to her, wanting to understand better how she felt about her art. Perhaps it wasn’t as dire as losing a piece of herself, perhaps it was just that she was no longer interested. I knew, honestly knew, that was not the case, but I still hoped. A few minutes later I summoned the note back to myself, and my heart clenched in sadness at her words.

_Because that part of me is empty._

Oh Feyre… My Feyre. She had been an artist turned hunter. A hunter turned sacrifice. A sacrifice now turned warrior… and yet, even now, at the heart of her, I knew. She was still an artist, but she was empty, and I knew, had seen it in her face in those early days, that she had no idea how to call it back. She had taken up the mantle of warrior in place of being an artist, taken up the call to protect others because she didn’t know how to save herself.

I lowered my head, one hand clutching the edge of the desk as the sorrow rolled through me. The damned thing about it was, I didn’t know how to save myself either - all this time, I had spent all my energy in preparing to fight against Hybern, and then trying to save her, all just to distract from how empty inside I was as well. I understood her all to well.

There had been more written beneath that sentence, and when I was finally able to catch my breath, I looked up and read it.

_Did you always want to be High Lord?_

I managed a half smile… a deflection tinged with actual curiosity. I knew how writing those words to me had likely been painful for her, and I was grateful that she had been willing to share with me at all. I didn’t mind changing the subject, and this was one that I could talk about easily enough. As I began to write there was a knock on the door.

“Rhys?” Mor said, poking her head into the small room. “We’re ready to continue.”

I glanced up at her and nodded, “Go ahead without me, I am going to finish this note up, then I will join you.”

Mor looked curiously towards the note, but this time I did not offer to share the conversation. This one was private, it belonged only to me and Feyre.

“Alright, don’t take too long, you know how these priestesses can get.” She arched a brow at me and grinned, “Even with a High Lord.”

I snorted and gave her a nod, “Don’t I know it. I’ll be along shortly.”

She gave me a nod and shut the door, giving me space to respond.

_Yes. And no. I saw how my father ruled and knew from a young age that I did not want to be like him. So I decided to be a different sort of High Lord; I wanted to protect my people, change the perceptions of the Illyrians, and eliminate the corruption that plagued the land._

Looking my response over once, I folded the note and winnowed it back to her side, then pocketed my pen and left the room. A few moments later I had rejoined the group, listening in as Mor debated back and forth with one of the elder priestesses about the merits of rebuilding the temple exactly as it had been, or improving on the design to allow better access for visiting pilgrims. I was content to sit back and let Mor handle this argument, truthfully she was in her element and holding her ground splendidly. My cousin had faced her share of demons and been left broken and bleeding from those trials, and yet it was in moments like these, when her eyes were bright and her smile wide, that I was reminded of how she made broken look beautiful, how she made pain into strength, and how she made each trial she had faced into a stepping stone for her to achieve her goals.

“Those are all good arguments,” Mor said with genuine kindness, “however I don’t think you’ve taken into consideration the fact that word has gotten out what this temple had been housing. Not just an ancient religious artifact, which drew its fair share of pilgrims before, but an actual piece of the Cauldron.” She shook her head, the waves of her golden hair shimmering in the fae-light. “We’re not sure how to word got out, but people know and the knowledge is spreading. Before long you’re likely to be inundated with fae wanting to stand on the ground that once housed such an artifact. If we are to rebuild this temple, we should do so with that in mind - which means expanding and changing the original design.”

The older priestess huffed, then gave a short nod, “I suppose you’re right, it’s just-“

I felt the tingle along my spine, and turned my attention to the note I shortly winnowed back to myself. Upon opening it and reading what Feyre had said in response I suddenly began laughing.

_At least you make up for your shameless flirting by being one hell of a High Lord._

Conversation in the room stopped entirely and everyone was staring at me as I continued to laugh, re-reading the sentence several times. Looking up I saw that Mor was staring at me with amusement, a brow arched in silent question, and in front of us were three entirely unamused priestesses.

“Good news?” Mor asked, trying to give me an out from explaining what was actually going on.

I coughed, and tried, though failed completely, to temper the wide grin on my face.

“Yes, very… very good news. My apologies, please continue.” I folded the note and pocketed it, and still could not wipe the grin from my face. The rest of the afternoon was entirely wasted on me, and Mor knew it, taking the forefront in the discussions. When most of the major details had finally been hashed out it was already early evening and I regretted that we had been gone so long when all I really wanted to do was head home.

“What in the world was in that note?” Mor asked me quietly as we took our leave from the priestesses and the temple, heading a little down the dirt road - another thing that was going to be upgraded along with the repairs on the temple.

I grinned widely at my cousin, chuckling a little again. “Ah Mor, were I to share it with you I suspect you would spend the rest of the night being an unholy terror, and I’d rather have a quiet evening at home.”

This only served to make Mor look at me suspiciously, but I just smirked and held my hand out to her. Rolling her eyes at me, she took my hand and I winnowed us back to Velaris. Taking leave of me, Mor said she was going to head into town for dinner, inviting me to join her, though I declined. Instead I headed up to the townhouse and damn near strutted into the house, smirking all the while as I stepped into the sitting room to find Feyre stretched out, reading. When she glanced up at me I merely said, “One hell of a High Lord?”

Her response was nearly instant and entirely unexpected, as I was doused with nearly a bucket’s worth of water. I looked at her with surprise, and utter delight, then began to shake my head like a dog, splattering her with water, making her yelp as she darted away from me and up the stairs. I couldn’t stop laughing. I could hardly remember the last time I had laughed so much and so hard.

\- - - ~*~ - - -

It was a week or two later that I woke to a few solid knocks on my bedroom door. Glancing around blearily, I saw out the windows that it was early. Very early. Groaning softly, I climbed out of bed and stumbled to my door, opening it to see Azriel standing in the hallway, dressed and presentable. Bastard.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, my voice scratchy with sleep.

He lifted his hand, offering me a sealed letter on fine parchment paper. “Cassian went to check with Feyre’s sisters last night and just arrived back this morning. I told him I would bring you the letter.”

My heart began to race as I examined the seal, then broke it and opened the letter.

_High Lord, we accept your invitation to meet in two days time. The meeting will be held at exactly eleven o’clock. You are to provide us with the exact geographical location of the house, along with the layout and size of each room, and where furniture is located. You will include where the windows and doors are, and which room you will greet us in. We expect this information by tomorrow noon or the meeting will be cancelled._

Shaking my head I offered the letter to Azriel to examine. He studied it and arched a brow.

“A little unusual,” he remarked.

I considered their requests, trying to figure if there was some trick to them. On their own, a human had little chance of actually harming a fae, we were stronger and faster, but already these Queens had proven dangerous. Their palace had been a death trap to one of my spies and it was unknown if that was intentional or not on their part. However, I truly wanted to handle this as peacefully as possible, and I realized that the reason why was because of Feyre. It was just like I had written in the last letter I sent to the Queens - I wanted to prove that fae and humans could live and work together peaceably.

“We will meet their demands. I would rather accomplish this through diplomacy than might of arms.” Looking back at Azriel he nodded. “Az, you go on ahead and help the sisters detail this information, and then see the letter sent as soon as possible. I will inform the rest as to what is going on and we will join you there shortly.”

He gave me another nod, folding the letter and tucking it in a pocket before turning and quickly striding down the hall. I headed back into my room, quickly dressing before making my way downstairs towards the kitchen where I was sure Nuala and Cerridwen were already at work. Upon entering the kitchen they both stopped and smiled warmly at me.

“Good morning my Lord,” Cerridwen said as I came to stop in front of the kitchen island.

“Good morning,” I said with a smile. “We have received word from the Queens, and will be leaving for the mortal lands by this afternoon. I need one of you to prepare for Feyre and myself, and the other of you to inform and help Mor and Cassian to prepare. I’ll be heading to Amren to let her know of the plan and arrange things while we're gone.”

Nuala went to the sink to immediately begin washing the flour from her hands while Cerridwen began to remove her apron. “Of course my Lord. Do you have any special requirements for you or lady Feyre?” Cerridwen asked, eying me curiously.

I began to say no, then paused as I considered how I wanted our party to be perceived by the Queens. “If I know my cousin at all she will choose red, which will be perceived as bold,” I mused out loud, smirking a little. “My black will be accepted as the expected norm for the High Lord of the Night Court. Cassian and Az in leathers will be viewed as guards easily enough.”

The twins glanced between each other, smiling then looked back towards me. “And for lady Feyre? What role shall she play?”

I looked down at the ground and smiled slightly. “That’s easy enough. She’s our hope.” I glanced back at the twins and said, “Gild her gold, diadem included.”

The bowed their heads in acknowledgement of my decision, and then they both shimmered out of sight. I turned on my heel and headed into my office to grab a sheet of paper and write a quick note out on it.

_No training with your second-favorite Illyrian this morning. The queens finally deigned to write back. They’re coming to your family’s estate tomorrow._

I likely wouldn’t return home in time for breakfast with Feyre, and I wanted her to know what was happening today as soon as she woke. It might set off her nerves, but she deserved to know right away. Folding the note in half I winnowed it up to her bedside table, then summoned my darkness and winnowed to just outside Amren’s apartment. Knocking on the door, it clicked open and I stepped inside, finding Amren seated on her bed in front of the Book.

She flickered a glance towards me, “It’s early Rhysand.”

It was early, and had it not been for the adrenaline coursing through my body at _finally_ have a course of action to follow down, I would likely have been yawning dreadfully. Fortunately that was not the case as I came to stand in front of her, smirking a little bit, “Really? I had no idea. You are rather astute my dear Amren.”

Letting out a sigh of long suffering patience, Amren sat up straight and half-glared at me. “What is it, Rhysand?”

Chuckling I reached up and ran a hand through my hair, “The Queen’s responded. We’re heading to the mortal realms by this afternoon.”

Amren’s brows arched, “Well it’s about damn time. Who all is ‘we’?”

I shrugged, “Everyone but you, at this point. I discussed this with Mor a few weeks back and she was amenable to going for this initial meeting. I’ll need to take Cassian and Azriel both because the Queen’s will expect to see some sort of protection on my part, regardless whether or not they’re actually needed.”

Amren nodded in agreement, one of her long fingers tracing the symbols on the Book absent-mindedly. “Yes, I agree. Will you be taking the twins? Feyre’s sister’s might not take well to them, Rhysand.”

I shook my head, “I already thought about it, and I don’t believe it’s a good idea for exactly that reason. Which is a shame, because Feyre seems to trust the twins quite a lot, but Mor will be there this time at least.”

Amren suddenly pinned me with an intense stare, “Rhysand, there is something else you should consider. I know how much faith you have in Feyre, however she is not a trained diplomat. The Queen’s are likely going to be distrustful of your motives, and there is no guarantee that Feyre will be able to convince them. In fact… it might be better to not take her at all. She is, in a way, proof of the worst our kind can offer.”

Anger surged through me, followed on its heels by guilt and a touch of shame. I exhaled slowly looking past her at the wall, considering her words carefully. She wasn’t precisely wrong, Amren rarely was, but she wasn’t entirely right either.

“Feyre has never failed in any endeavor she has set out on, no matter the odds. Do I think that she alone will convince the Queens to part with the Book? Likely not, but I believe they will see the truth of her - and she is no helpless victim.” Shaking my head I looked back at Amren, “I understand why you, and the others, are still uncertain of her, but honestly Amren, look at everything she has accomplished. Do you truthfully believe she will fail?”

Amren slowly smiled at me, a wicked glint in her eyes. “No, but I needed to make sure you didn’t believe she would either. Half of success is believing you will win, and you have doubted your Mate before.”

I flinched a little at the memory then let out a laugh, “Remind me why I keep you around again?”

Amren scoffed at me, “I rather believe it’s I that keeps you around. Now go, do some actual work for a change.” Smirking, I left her to her translations and went on about my business.

By an hour past noon we were packed and ready, with everyonecongregating in the foyer of the townhouse. Unlike the last time we made this journey, Feyre was standing close to me, as though she seemed dead set on making the trip specifically with me. I was loath to deny her, that or anything, truthfully.

“Everyone ready?” I asked, glancing around at each of them. They all nodded, and I took a step towards Cassian as he opened his arms and lifted Mor up into them. She could winnow them both, but it was quite a long distance away to the Wall and it would tire her out considerably, so we were following the same practice as before. Taking hold of Cassian and Mor, I winnowed them both out over the ocean near the Wall, letting go at the same time that he spread his wings, catching the wind while I free fell towards the choppy water. Summoning my darkness around me I winnowed back to the foyer where Feyre now stood alone and smirked a little as she jumped in shock at my sudden return. It was likely a testament to her nerves that she startled so easily, but she came to me easily as I opened my arms for her, lifting her up and holding her close.

“Ready, Feyre darling?” I asked her softly, studying her gray-blue eyes. She simply nodded, her arms tight around my neck. Smirking ever so slightly, I summoned my darkness around us both, and winnowed us into the sky just in front of the Wall. Spreading my wings I caught the wind and then twisted, angling down and reaching out along the Wall with my power to feel for the opening. Upon finding it I twisted again to align for it, and minutes later we soared through it, coming out the other side and meeting back up with Cassian and Mor.

Extending a bubble of power around the four of us, I shielded our sight and sounds from the mortals on the ground down below before we made our way to the chateau. We landed in the courtyard several minutes later, both Cassian and I letting Mor and Feyre settle on the ground. We each of us looked around, checking to see if there were any unexpected humans around and spotted none. Dropping the bubble that shielded us, we crossed the courtyard to the front door, where Feyre raised her hand and knocked.

A moment later the door opened and we were greeted by Azriel, his face calm, though his eyes were tight. I arched a brow at him, but he shook his head a fraction before he opened the door wider, allowing us entrance. We all filed inside, and this time it was Mor who was curiously examining the chateau, her brows arched in surprise - the amount of wealth was still a little shocking, considering it had all come from Tamlin. Were it that he had been so generous to Feyre with his attention, but it had not been the case.

“Oh!” A bright voice called our attention as Elain Archeron stepped out into the foyer to see us. It was obvious we still made her nervous, but there was a hint of a smile on her face as she crossed the room towards us and timidly hugged Feyre. I saw Feyre’s body tense, likely in shock, but she quickly hugged Elain back.

“Hello Elain, it’s good to see you again,” Feyre said softly.

If Elain noticed Feyre’s tense posture she didn’t remark on it, but simply let her go a moment later before looking over us all, her eyes falling on Mor with cautious curiosity. Glancing towards Feyre I saw how she still looked uncomfortable, so I stepped forward, leaving enough space that hopefully Elain wouldn’t feel threatened.

“Elain, allow me to introduce you to my cousin, Lady Morrigan. Morrigan, this is miss Elain Archeron.”

Elain offered Mor a shy smile, which Mor responded to in kind, nodding her head. “Thank you for allowing us to use your home.”

“Oh, of course!” Elain said, nervous again, her hands wringing together in front of her. “But you must surely be hungry, we still have some food set out in the dining room.” Elain turned and quickly began to lead everyone down the hall. I signaled Azriel to stay behind while the others went ahead, though I saw Feyre glance back curiously - I give her a wink and she just shook her head and followed her sister.

“The letter made it off in time?” I asked and he nodded. I glanced around, then arched a brow, “Where is Nesta?”

Azriel exhaled slowly, as though to calm himself, then muttered, “In the library. Cassian has his work cut out for him with that one.”

I stared at Azriel in shock, and then let out a laugh, shaking my head. “I’m not even going to ask.”

“That’s likely the safest course,” he replied dryly.

I smirked slightly then ran a hand through my hair, “And you haven’t sensed anything out place?”

“No, the grounds and air appear to be clear.” He paused a moment then said, “To be honest Rhys, I think the reason their letter was so oddly specific in it’s requests is that they are somehow going to… appear. Instead of arrive.”

I stared at him for a minute before saying, “I’ve never heard of a human that could winnow - even those who have learned to practice magic, they never had enough innate power to successfully winnow.”

He nodded, “I know, which is what concerns me.”

Before I could respond we were interrupted by a voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Oh good, you’ve arrived.”

Looking over Azriel’s shoulder I spotted Nesta coming down the stairs, glowering at us. Azriel’s shoulders stiffened slightly as he turned to look at her as well. She came to a stop at the base of the stairs and crossed her arms, continuing to glare at us. “Did you leave the brute at home?”

It was difficult to decide if I was more amused or annoyed by her behavior. For the sake of everyone’s peace, I decided on amused, for now. Giving her my most charming smirk I replied calmly, “He’s with your sisters and my cousin Morrigan in the dining room I believe.”

She blew out a breath and began to cross the room, heading towards the dining room in a manner that came across as a clear dismissal. I could have sworn I heard her mutter under her breath, “Great, you brought more this time.”

Glancing over at Azriel I raised a brow and he just shook his head at me.

Oh yea. This was going to go great.

\- - - ~*~ - - -

I’m not entirely sure how we managed it, but somehow we all survived the night. Though honestly, Nesta and Cassian’s bickering, while annoying, actually helped to band the rest of us together in shared disbelief and humor. I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen Mor _that_ delighted at watching Cassian go speechless a time or two. Azriel maintained a look of long suffering patience, Elain look mortified, and Feyre looked almost amused. By the time we all sought our beds, though this time Feyre bunked with Mor and I found myself alone, much to my dismay, we were all ready for some peace and quiet.

Once settled in bed I found myself drifting in and out of sleep, not quite having nightmares, but my dreams were tinged with the sharp edge of them, enough that I woke repeatedly to my heart racing. Some time shortly past midnight I woke again, this time gasping for breath as the shadows of the dream slowly peeled back, revealing the once dark corridors of the Mountain to be a pleasant, shadow flecked bedroom instead. I let out a low groan and reached up to rub my hands over my face, frustrated by how inescapable the nightmares truly seemed to be. I knew they happened less frequently, since Feyre had come to the Night Court - the connection was not lost on me - but I often wondered if they would ever truly fade entirely.

Sighing softly, I rolled onto my left side, facing the direction of Feyre’s room that was next door to mine, and stared at the blank wall. Her nightmares had improved as well, if I could gauge them correctly. She no longer had the deep, bruise-like shadows under her eyes and she no longer appeared to be slumped over in permanent exhaustion. The thought that perhaps they no longer haunted her anymore brought a true measure of peace to my overburdened heart - I would gladly suffer her share of nightmares as well my own if she never had to lose sleep to one ever again.

As I continued to think about her my mind drifted, and slowly relaxed, and before long the next thing I knew was the sounds of birds calling outside of my window and the sun rising in the East. A new day had dawned, and with it all our hopes at a future born in peace.

We all convened downstairs for a light breakfast, where Cassian, Azriel, Mor and myself discussed strategy for the upcoming meeting, with Feyre pitching in occasionally. Nesta and Elain sat with us but remained silent and tense, their plates mostly untouched. Around nine all of the women excused themselves to prepare, leaving the three of us sitting around the table, as it would take us less time to prepare.

Cassian stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest as he said, “I think that is the quietest I have ever seen Nesta.”

Azriel snorted, and I rolled my eyes at him, “She would likely argue less if you didn’t rile her up so much.”

He grinned mischievously, “What’s the fun in that?”

I laughed and Azriel reached up, rubbing his temples as though attempting to banish a headache.

“Cassian, you are by and far one of the most talented Illyrian warriors to ever come from Illyria, but one of these days that woman is going to kick your ass,” I said with a grin. “And I can’t wait to watch.”

This time Azriel let out a quiet chuckle while Cassian mock scowled at both of us. Shaking my head I stood up, while gesturing briefly at the table, causing all of the plates to disappear and reappear in the kitchen, now clean and stacked - it was the least I could do considering that all of the servants had been told to leave for this meeting to occur.

“I’m heading up, try and be presentable for a change, hmm?” I smirked at them while Cassian shot me a rude gesture and Az just shook his head. Once upstairs I paused outside Mor and Feyre’s door, listening to their quiet chatter, unable to hear exactly what they said but glad that Mor was at least here to insure Feyre’s nerves didn’t eat her up alone.

Slipping into my room I quickly began to change clothes, slipping into another one of my typical black suits though of much better quality than my typical day to day wear. While dressing I wondered what Feyre had have chosen to wear, with the twins guidance, but I knew likely what diadem they would have encouraged her to bring - it was a new one I had purchased for her, a rather simplistic gold band across the forehead, but around the back several delicate gold chains fell in in loops. I had seen it and imagined what it would look like against her hair, and couldn’t resist purchasing it for her. I wondered if she ever questioned where the diadems came from, as they tended to appear entirely on their own from anything else purchased from her, but if she was curious she never asked me directly.

Shaking my head, I glanced in the full length mirror, inspecting my outfit closely and finding nothing wrong with it. The final touch was resting on the top of the dresser - an item I wore as little as was possible, for though it was my birthright, it wasn’t something I enjoyed displaying often. I picked up my crown, one of many that belonged to my family, and by far one of my favorites. Made from dark forged metal and shaped to look like raven’s feathers, I placed it lightly atop my head, shifting it until it felt comfortable, then lowered my arms and looked back in the mirror.

And once again, I became the High Lord of the Night Court. I could only hope the word “fearsome” was not attached to that title.

Shaking my head ruefully, I smoothed down the front of my jacket, then made my way out of my room and to the next door down, knocking on it lightly. A couple of minutes passed and I wondered if perhaps Mor and Feyre had gone on ahead, but then the door clicked open and Mor was standing there, smirking at me. She looked absolutely beautiful, swathed in a deep red gown, cut in the Night Court fashion, her gold hair spilling in waves down her shoulders.

“Why cousin,” she said playfully, “Don’t you clean up nice.”

I chuckled and leaned against the door jam, “I could say the same about you.”

She winked at me, then glanced back over her shoulder into the room, before looking back at me and said low, under her breath, “She’s nervous.”

I nodded and took a step back, gesturing to her to come out of the room, “Give us a moment.”

She hesitated then said, “Feyre, I’m going to go check that Cassian remembered to comb his hair. I’ll see you when you come down.”

I heard Feyre reply her agreement, noticing the slight tremor to her words, while Mor opened the door wider and stepped out, leaving the door open. She gripped my arm lightly in a gesture of encouragement, then made her way down the hall, while I stepped forward into the doorway and looked into the room.

And forgot entirely how to breathe.

Gild her in gold I had said.

They had gilded her _light._

She stood straight and tall in front of one of the windows looking out it, dressed in a white gown of chiffon and silk, with delicate gold accents, cut similar in style to Mor’s own red gown. The fabric clung to her curves, curves that had not been there just a few weeks prior, but were now clearly evident. The early afternoon sun shined in through the windows and the white fabric seemed to absorb it and make it seem to almost glow, or perhaps, that was her own radiance shining through, and she was in fact, glowing.

Swallowing hard, I tried to remember how to breathe, and quickly slid my nearly shaking hands into my pockets.

“Feyre…” I said softly to catch her attention, and I watched her tense for just a second, before she relaxed and turned to look at me. And for one instant, as her gaze met mine, I was reminded of that moment during her second trial while Under the Mountain, when she had looked up at me in a panic, completely terrified and certain of her death, but in the next breath her expression cleared and the shutters on her emotions closed.

I understood then that she wasn't just nervous, she was afraid, and it was easy to understand why. She was my emissary, it was expected of her to take a lead role in this meeting, and I knew how ill-prepared she must feel. I often felt as though the weight of the world rested on my shoulders, how too must she feel having none of my years of experience to rely on.

My beautiful, terrified, brave Feyre.

And knowing her as well as I imagined that I did, she would appreciate having none of that pointed out to her. So I did the opposite and crossed the bedroom as I continued looking her over, as though inspecting her.

“Hmmm…” I said after a minute, causing her to look at me with confusion. “I suppose this will do…” I said, finally meeting her gaze again while smirking, “I mean you hardly look as pretty as I do, but at least I won’t be embarrassed to admit I know you.”

Her eyes widened, first with shock, then with indignation before she finally narrowed her gaze at me.

“Yes, well, try not to let your ego enter the room with us, there won’t be enough room for the Queens to join us.”

I chuckled richly and held out my arm for her, “Ah Feyre darling, I wouldn’t worry, I’m sure there’s enough room for my ego and your temper in the same room as the Queens.”

She huffed at me and brushed past my proffered arm, much to my genuine dismay, but at least she was no longer eaten up with nerves as she stalked out of the room and down the hall. I strolled along behind her, still grinning when we reached the stairs and made our way down them, and across the foyer to the room set aside for this meeting.

Mor looked up as we entered, first glancing at Feyre’s face, and I was certain I could guess how she still looked, before her brows rose and she looked back towards me with an incredulous look on her face. I simply smirked and shrugged as I turned to take in the room. Two sets of chairs had been arranged, each against one wall, one row with three for us, and the other row with six for the Queens. Nesta and Elain, dressed in what was likely their finest clothing, stood off to one side, Nesta stoic in her demeanor, though Elain fidgeted with her nerves. Cassian and Azriel had changed into what could be called ceremonial leathers, but they were no less functional than their more common sets, and each of their seven siphons gleamed as though polished, which they most certainly were. Mor stood beside Feyre, having a quiet conversation with her, likely asking what I had said, and by the quirking of her lips she was trying not to laugh.

Making my way towards the fireplace, I glanced at the clock there and saw we were closing in on elven. Taking a breath, I slid my hands from my pockets and clasped them behind my back, and settled into my public personae. Upon taking my position the room re-settled itself, with Feyre coming to stand beside me, and Mor on my other side, though a step or two behind me. Feyre, having never been taught court intricacies never knew such social expectations, and I was not going to inform her of her “proper place” as other High Lords would have, because the only place I wanted her was at my side. Flanking either side of the three of us were Cassian and Azriel, their bodies and demeanors relaxed but observant. A little off to the side, but closer to us than before, stood Feyre’s sisters, with Nesta standing just slightly in front of Elain.

We were ready.

The time ticked down.

The clock chimed eleven.

A phantom wind brushed through the room, and Azriel had been correct in his guess, as in the center of the room, five figures appeared, flanked by two guards apiece.

The Queens had arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you have a minute or two to leave a kudos or comment I would really appreciate it.
> 
> I am still relatively new to writing fan fiction and I would love any critiques you can throw my way, good or bad.
> 
> Thank you so much! - Otter
> 
> P.S. Yes I named this chapter after a Queen song. I had the idea to use a Queen song title because the ultimate point of the chapter is to meet the queens. When I told my husband my idea he yelled, "FAT BOTTOMED GIRLS!" So... here we are, in ridiculous land, lol.  
P.S.S. I might have used a Darth Vadar force choke moment in this chapter... *whistles innocently*  
P.S.S.S. Yes the story Rhys reads to Feyre is SJM other series, Thone of Glass. <3  
P.S.S.S.S. There is a Firefly quote in this chapter - can you find it?  
P.S.S.S.S.S. This is my longest ever chapter (so far). *throws confetti and shit*


	8. A/N Update Stuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: If you have not read A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas I strongly suggest you go read it first - it's undoubtedly better written and what I have written will spoil the book for you.
> 
> I am re-writing all of ACOMAF from Rhysand's perspective, using all of the original characters/scenes/dialogue, and adding in new bits and bobs to flesh his story out more.
> 
> This Section:  
Ch. 1 - Rhysand, Feyre and Amren head to the Summer Court (New scenes)  
Ch. 2 - Dinner on the barge, and Rhysand spends time with Cresseida (New scenes)  
Ch. 3 - Rhysand and Tarquin bargain, then Rhysand has a private chat with Feyre (Several new scenes)  
Ch. 4 - Dinner with Tarquin and the location of the Book  
Ch. 5 - Stealing the Book (Several new scenes)  
Ch. 6 - Blood Rubies and nightmares (Several new scenes)  
Ch. 7 - Waiting for the Queens to respond (Several new scenes)  
CH. 8 - A/N: An apology and update on health and writing
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> *Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.

Hey everyone! Ta-da it’s an update!

First of all I wanted to thank everyone who has been so patient waiting for me to get this update out. All of your kind words and comments have been an amazing blessing for me while I have been dealing with my health issues.

In regard to my health issues, things are both better and worse. Thanks to the medical massage/body work I haven going to regularly my overall body pain and migraines have improved. Some days are still really crappy but I am starting to experience more good days which is just amazing.

Here’s the bad news - my eyes. I started noticing problems with my eyes a few months ago and was ignoring it (because that’s the smart way to handle things, right?) But it finally got to a point where I had to do something. After going to my regular eye doctor, his first question after checking my eyes was:

“Did you drive yourself here?”

“Well, no.”

“Good, because you’re no longer allowed to drive.”

“…Fuck.”

So yea, I was having both severe blurriness and double vision, and for the next four weeks I wasn’t allowed to drive. A trip to a retina specialist proved mostly unhelpful, except to confirm that while I do have some thinning of my retina’s it’s not severe enough to warrant action. We decided to try a new much stronger prescription glasses to help with my blurriness, but they were unable to apply prisms to the prescription to help with the double vision because my double vision isn’t regular (not every day, not always as bad, not always in the same eye, etc.) So my blurriness has improved but the double vision is still pretty awful and seems to be getting worse. I have a referral in to see a neuro-optomologist but it takes months to get in so we’re still waiting for the doctors office to contact us.

So what does this mean overall? Well, I’m allowed to drive again (thank god!) even though the double vision sucks. However, reading and writing is well, painful, and the more/longer I try to do it the harder it gets. So, while I am trying to get back into the flow of writing and posting, it probably isn’t going to be as fast as the first 5 sections had originally been.

Anyways, I just wanted to update you all and sincerely thank you for how kind you all have been. I hope you enjoyed this section update and all of the new scenes I built in. I have already started on section 7 and will get it out to you as soon as I can. :)

Thank you so much!

-Otter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all of your comments, they really make a difference on the bad days (and the good!)
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed this update and I will be working on getting the next update out as soon as possible!
> 
> \- Otter

**Author's Note:**

> As always I love getting your comments and kudos, let me know what I can do to improve!
> 
> Also, as I am writing I am reading out loud everything to my absolutely incredible husband who gives me great feedback. However lately (as a joke!) at the end of every bit I read he likes to yell out something to make me laugh and I promised I would post it here in the hopes that it will make you laugh as well. Without further ado!:
> 
> "And then they F*CK!!!"
> 
> Love, Otter (and her ridiculous husband)


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